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A close-up image of tightly rolled newspapers stacked vertically, with dim, moody lighting and a grainy texture that gives the scene a vintage, noir atmosphere. Some headlines and columns are partially visible, adding to the sense of layered, obscured information.
Book Review

Who Gets to Tell the Story?

Journalism doesn’t need saving by those who made it toxic. Wright names the rot—Murdoch, the lobby, the Oxbridge cartel—and shows how the presses keeps running.

A dark, oil-painted 1950s-style illustration titled “Daddy’s Home” shows a stern, scowling man resembling Donald Trump standing in a doorway, holding a briefcase. He wears a black suit with a red tie and looms under dramatic lighting. To his left, a woman looks frightened, covering her mouth with her hand. In the foreground, a young boy with a furrowed brow glares angrily. The mood is tense and ominous, evoking themes of authoritarian return and domestic dread.
Donald J Trump

Daddy’s Home: Trump, NATO, and the Spectacle of Power

Trump didn’t just return to NATO; he returned as “Daddy”—a role not earned through diplomacy, but conjured through spectacle. Baudrillard warned that when image overtakes reality, politics becomes performance. The bombs may have hit Iran, but the real strike was rhetorical. What mattered wasn’t destruction, it was the appearance of obliteration, the meme of authority, the myth of restored order. In the empire of simulation, the sovereign returns not with treaties, but with merch.

Hand-painted protest signs displayed against a neutral background. One sign on brown cardboard reads “THEY SAY CUT BACK WE SAY FIGHT BACK” in bold black letters. Another, on black card, reads “NO CUTS TO PIP!” in large white letters. A third sign, painted blue and white, says “WELFARE NOT WARFARE,” with the word “NOT” inside a red prohibition circle. The style is bold, rough-edged, and defiant, evoking a DIY protest aesthetic.
Britain

Under Siege: Labour’s Crisis of Vision

Labour won power by promising stability, but what it offers now is paralysis. It has no strategy to counter Farage, no defence against a Tory right fightback, and no imagination to confront the ecological and economic shocks coming fast over the horizon. While Reform sets the agenda and the left reorganises, Starmer retreats into technocratic caution. The government is not leading Britain—it’s managing decline, and doing it badly. Unless Labour finds the courage to confront the forces tearing the country apart, it risks becoming the caretaker of its own collapse.

Front cover of the hardback version of The World After Gaza
Book Review

The World After Gaza – a short review*

Pankaj Mishra’s The World After Gaza is a searing indictment of Western complicity in Israeli aggression, exposing the ideological, economic, and political forces that have enabled the destruction of Palestine.

A stylised graphic illustration of a modern red London double-decker bus on Route 24 to Pimlico, set against a backdrop of classical city architecture and a London Underground sign. The image uses a bold 1968 protest-era colour scheme of red, beige, yellow, and black, with minimalistic, flat shapes evoking vintage political poster design.
Britain

London Is Not Over—You Just Don’t Belong in It

Matt Goodwin’s claim that “London is over” isn’t analysis, it’s a panic attack in column form. Behind the talk of pints and train delays lies the same tired script the Mail rehashes every few weeks, just in time for its readers to rage over their cornflakes. Crime becomes a cipher for immigration, anecdote stands in for data, and the city’s diversity is framed as an existential threat. But what really offends Goodwin isn’t decline—it’s that London no longer looks or sounds like him.

A vintage revolver mounted on a plain beige wooden wall, evoking the concept of Chekhov’s gun. The weapon is displayed in profile with a dark blued metal frame and a worn wooden grip, lit softly to highlight its aged, utilitarian design.
Alexander Dugin

The Gospel of World War Three: Alexander Dugin and the Death Cult of Civilisation

Alexander Dugin’s latest polemic is not political analysis but fascist sermon—an apocalyptic blueprint in which nuclear war is both inevitable and desirable. Cloaked in the language of sovereignty and tradition, it is a call to arms for a new ideology of holy Russian power. What begins with Fordow ends with the end of humanity. And for that reason alone, it demands scrutiny—not celebration. You listening, tech bros?

A square-cropped image featuring the bold black text "THE SAMSON OPTION" in all capital letters on a cream background. The second "O" in "OPTION" is stylised with the upper half containing the Israeli flag and the lower half the American flag, symbolising the book’s geopolitical focus
Iran

The Bomb in the Basement, the Bomb in the Mountains: Israel, Iran, and the Nuclear Hypocrisy of the West

The next state to cross the nuclear threshold won’t be doing anything new. It’ll be following the path Israel already took—building the bomb in secret, shielded by silence and strategic utility. The real precedent was set decades ago in the Negev. That’s the hypocrisy at the heart of the so-called international order: one bomb is a threat to civilisation, the other a pillar of it. This isn’t about non-proliferation. It’s about who gets to own the apocalypse.

A close-up image of tightly rolled newspapers stacked vertically, with dim, moody lighting and a grainy texture that gives the scene a vintage, noir atmosphere. Some headlines and columns are partially visible, adding to the sense of layered, obscured information.

Who Gets to Tell the Story?

Journalism doesn’t need saving by those who made it toxic. Wright names the rot—Murdoch, the lobby, the Oxbridge cartel—and shows how the presses keeps running.

Front cover of the hardback version of The World After Gaza

The World After Gaza – a short review*

Pankaj Mishra’s The World After Gaza is a searing indictment of Western complicity in Israeli aggression, exposing the ideological, economic, and political forces that have enabled the destruction of Palestine.

A large black-and-white graffiti mural of a young Mike Tyson is painted on the side of a red brick building in New York. The mural shows Tyson before his face tattoo era, capturing his youthful intensity with a stern expression and strong jawline. His name, “MIKE TYSON,” appears in bold white capital letters beside the portrait. The building features classic urban architecture with fire escapes, giving the scene a gritty 1980s New York atmosphere. A streetlamp stands in the foreground, adding to the mural’s dramatic presence.

The Beast in the Bleachers

Mike Tyson was never just a boxer—he was a system made flesh. Mark Kriegel’s Baddest Man understands this: it’s not a redemption tale but an anatomy of spectacle, where a traumatised boy from Brownsville is forged into a global icon of violence, repackaged as entertainment, and finally rebranded for profit

A square graphic split vertically into two halves. On the left, a Barbie doll is depicted wearing a striped concentration camp uniform with a yellow Star of David and an identification number. On the right, a grey microwave oven is illustrated. The background uses muted beige, purple, and grey tones, with thick black outlines and a retro graphic style. The image critiques the commodification of trauma and modern consumer culture.

The Century of Soap and Barbie

Europeana is what happens when history loses faith in its own narrative. Part bureaucratic fever dream, part Adam Curtis montage, it recites the atrocities and absurdities of the twentieth century in a tone so flat it becomes damning.

A vivid red and orange photograph of a nuclear explosion during Operation Upshot-Knothole. A massive fireball and mushroom cloud dominate the image, illuminating the night sky. A steel test tower is visible in front of the blast, and silhouetted Joshua trees and human figures can be seen in the foreground, emphasising the scale and intensity of the detonation.

Destroy Everything, Explain Nothing

There are no responsible nuclear powers—only powers with the bomb and those without—and by explaining the science while ignoring the politics, Frank Close turns history’s most destructive weapon into a tale of tragic inevitability rather than state terror.

Book cover of "Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers" by Caroline Fraser. The design features a monochrome photo of a man's face—partially obscured—with a superimposed industrial landscape and plume of smoke, blending the imagery of a serial killer with a polluted, foreboding environment. The title is in bold yellow text at the top, and the author's name appears at the bottom in yellow, noting her as the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of "Prairie Fires".

The Crazy Wall

Caroline Fraser’s Murderland dismantles the voyeurism of true crime by tracing serial murder not to aberrant monsters but to the poisoned infrastructures, institutional apathy, and cultural amnesia that made their violence possible.

A stylised diptych poster On the left, a utopian scene of post-war British council housing: clean, mid-century low-rise flats with open communal space where children play and neighbours chat in a sunlit courtyard. On the right, a stark contrast—dilapidated, privately rented housing with cracked walls, broken windows, a decaying swing, and a large “FOR RENT” sign, evoking neglect, scarcity, and social decline. Both panels are rendered in red and beige tones, underscoring the ideological shift from collective provision to market-driven decay.

A Nation That Rents, and Rots

The British housing crisis is not a matter of scarcity but of structure—a system that treats homes as investment vehicles, tenants as revenue streams, and housing itself as a battlefield between capital and collective life.