The rest of the blog
The chancellor’s proposed income tax shuffle is clever accountancy but toxic politics — a pledge-break disguised as fiscal discipline, and proof that Labour has trapped itself in rules it cannot escape.
More than 200,000 young men aren’t “signed off for life”—they are the reserve army of labour, conscripted into the Telegraph’s morality tale to prepare the ground for austerity.
David Frost calls it a new “Red Terror.” The truth is plainer: it’s the Right’s wars, coups and crackdowns that have spilt the deepest blood in politics.
Trump’s latest “kinetic strike” killed three unknown Venezuelans he labelled “narco-terrorists.” The phrase is not law but incantation, a word that strips away humanity and legitimises killing. From Vietnam body counts to Obama’s “signature strikes,” America has always named its enemies into existence, and into death.
To call Robinson’s rally “populist” or “right-wing” is to miss the point. Fascism doesn’t require every marcher to be a coherent ideologue; it requires a mass, a scapegoat, and leaders prepared to turn grievance into violence. That is what we saw in London.
The events of Saturday (13/09) prove that Britain can go fascist. Musk calls for violence, the Telegraph and Times launder his words, and Starmer clings to the flag. We must name the danger or watch it grow.
Camilla Tominey’s sainthood act for Charlie Kirk trades politics for piety. The Right already owns the machinery (press, finance, courts, police) and Kirk was part of the drive shaft. A death certificate doesn’t wash clean a career built on making violence respectable.
The ONS reports zero growth in July. The papers call it “grim news” for Rachel Reeves. In reality, it is the latest entry in a long obituary for British capitalism — a system now sustained only by euphemism, stagnation, and decline.
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.
They said they were fed up. And maybe they are. But not with what they think. This is how consent is manufactured in a failing state. Scarcity becomes suspicion. Anger gets rebranded as patriotism.
What began as rupture has returned as routine. Brexit survives not in open defiance, but in the quiet enforcement of borders, the bureaucratic choreography of treaties, and the managed reintegration of a Britain that still won’t say its name.
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.