The rest of the blog
The crimes of Dresden, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki were supposed to teach the world “never again.” Huckabee’s defence of Gaza’s destruction turns that into “do it again” — not moral clarity, but moral collapse.
Restore Britain isn’t an alternative to Farage — it’s his spawn, bred in the gaps when he feigns moderation. Their game isn’t winning elections, it’s shifting the boundaries of the possible until the grotesque feels ordinary.
Israel killed Anas al-Sharif because it feared what he could still show the world.
Jenrick’s “medieval attitudes” line isn’t about protecting women — it’s about importing the far right’s script into the Tory mainstream. From Powell to Farage, the cast has changed but the grammar is the same: the outsider as danger, the nation as victim, the politician as saviour.
Keir Starmer’s proscription of Palestine Action marks a new stage in Britain’s authoritarian turn, retooling counter-terrorism laws to criminalise dissent, define solidarity as “terrorism”, and dress up political repression as public safety.
Gilbert Achcar’s The Gaza Catastrophe is not a plea for sympathy. It is a political weapon. Written in the midst of genocide, it strips away the euphemisms, the diplomatic theatre, and the moral fog. This war, he argues, is a settler-colonial project. Accelerated to its most brutal form, with the full backing of the Western powers who claim to uphold human rights. Achcar names the system, maps its historical scaffolding, and indicts not only Israel but the global order that enables it. This is not a book of mourning. It is a call to act.
Right to Buy was never just a housing policy. It was a weapon. It stripped councils of their power, turned tenants into property owners, and recast collective provision as individual gain. The result wasn’t freedom but fragmentation: social housing gutted, rents soaring, and the right to strike undermined by the threat of eviction. Thatcher didn’t just sell homes. She sold a new class alignment, and we’re still living in its ruins.
Let’s not pretend this was ever about a child proud of her nation. It’s about the adults. Their performance, their grievance, their weaponisation of the flag. The far right didn’t stumble upon this story; they engineered it. A girl in a Union Jack dress becomes a national martyr, a school is hounded into closure, and the flag flies higher because of it. This isn’t about inclusion. It’s about intimidation. Once again, they’ve made the butcher’s apron the price of admission, and Labour’s too afraid to say otherwise.
Europe is not being overrun—it’s running out. Of workers, of births, of time. François Bayrou’s budget bombshell is less about fiscal rules than demographic reckoning. Fortress Europe clings to nostalgia while the tax base collapses. No amount of white-baby fantasies or border theatre will reverse the maths. The future demands what no mainstream party dares admit: migration, not austerity, is the condition of survival.
Trump isn’t reopening Alcatraz. He’s pointing at the ruins and saying: this is what we’ll do to them. It’s not
Dugin is no longer prophesying. He’s grieving. What was once a militant theology of MAGA as civilisational rebirth has curdled into lament. Trump, the anointed disruptor, has become just another functionary—an “object,” not a “subject.” The Deep State wasn’t slain, the Epstein files remain sealed, Israel is unchallenged. Dugin’s dream wasn’t defeated in battle. It drowned in compromise.
