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There was a time when the production line ordered more than goods, it ordered life. Work meant wages, wages meant stability, and stability gave the illusion of progress. That was Fordism. What remains now is the shell of that promise, retrofitted as nationalist fantasy. The factory is gone, but its myth has been repurposed. Not to build, but to blame.
Philp’s not doing politics, he is doing panic. Jenrick’s dragging the whole Tory lot further right, and this is what’s left: no ideas, no plan, just enemies. Same fear, different headline.
Neutrality in the face of injustice is not impartiality. This is complicity. The court’s ruling isn’t about keeping police out of politics; it’s about appeasing a reactionary movement that wants trans people pushed from public life. Today it’s Pride. Tomorrow it’s the right to celebrate Eid, to march for Black lives, to speak up for Palestine. The message is clear: visibility is permitted only for the unthreatening.
He fed them tales of satanic cabals and deep-state executions, and now expects them to believe the Epstein dossier is boring.
Farage isn’t here to fix Britain. He’s here to make you hate your neighbour while his mates keep getting rich.
Dugin doesn’t need Trump to lead anymore. He just needs him to stall. The real project now is building a soft-theocratic death cult that prays for collapse but never acts. Spectators waiting for revelation, not revolution. Fifty days to Armageddon. Maybe. Maybe not. That’s the point.
Rachel Reeves is not just reviving trickle-down economics. She is sharpening it into a weapon aimed directly at the working class.
Farage says migrants are draining £12bn in benefits. The government’s own data says the real figure is closer to £3bn, and those he targets are more likely to be sanctioned and underpaid. This isn’t savings. It’s scapegoating.
Rachel Reeves is not just reviving trickle-down economics. She is sharpening it into a weapon aimed directly at the working class.
MP Rupert Lowe peddles a fantasy of lost greatness to mask the failures of those who’ve ruled and ruined this country. The problem isn’t immigration or identity. It’s inequality, privatisation, and a political class that sold off the future for short-term profit. You want courage? Try telling the truth about power.
Labour’s problem isn’t just that it inherited a broken economy. It’s that it refuses to say so. The party acts like governing is a performance for bond markets and newspaper editors, rather than an act of political leadership. Hard choices are made without explanation. Rollbacks happen without apology. And the public is left wondering: if even Labour doesn’t believe in what it’s doing, why should anyone else?
They came for Glastonbury, the BBC, and a punk band. Then they came for students, civil servants, and anyone else who dared speak clearly about Palestine. What we’re watching is not a debate—it’s a crackdown. Armed with legal threats, media outrage, and the ever-flexible label of antisemitism, Britain’s pro-Israel lobby doesn’t just influence politics. It polices speech. And when even a chant against a military force under ICC investigation is treated as hate speech, the message is clear: the violence can continue, but naming it is forbidden.
Eight years on, Grenfell remains a wound that hasn’t healed. Netflix’s documentary gives voice to the survivors, while Peter Apps’s account lays bare the systemic failures that made the fire inevitable, and the justice that still hasn’t come.
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.
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.
Britain doesn’t have a problem with ambition—it has a problem with delivery, honesty, and class. HS2 is just the latest national fiasco sold as progress, then gutted behind the scenes to serve consultants, cronies and headlines.
Adam Curtis’s latest series attempts to diagnose the collapse of public trust in Britain—but without his voice, a clear argument, or fresh material, Shifty drifts through the ruins of the neoliberal age, recycling fragments and offering atmosphere where once there was clarity.
The mob lit the match, but it was the right-wing press that soaked the ground and stood back to watch it burn.