Smiley’s People Wouldn’t Survive This
Ryan’s Second Strike is a taut, post-Brexit techno-thriller in which privatised warfare meets Cold War ghosts, and the real enemy is the story you’re told to believe.
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Ryan’s Second Strike is a taut, post-Brexit techno-thriller in which privatised warfare meets Cold War ghosts, and the real enemy is the story you’re told to believe.
Geoff Dyer’s Homework shows childhood not as innocence, but as class training—plastic toys, unwritten rules, and a welfare state already fraying at the edges.
Britain doesn’t need a softer Starmer or a greener liberalism—it needs a new party of revolutionary ecosocialism, built by those brave enough to walk out and fight for class power, not manage its decline.
They say prisons are overcrowded, as if the cages are too small. As if the problem is spatial. As if all we need is a few more acres of razor wire and reinforced concrete and the crisis will vanish. But prisons aren’t full because we lack space. They’re full because we lack imagination.
Nigel Farage isn’t the voice of the working class—he’s their grifter-in-chief, selling tax cuts to the comfortable while Labour trails behind him, too timid to name the real enemy.
On Jane Borden’s Cults Like Us
Nigel Farage isn’t the voice of the working class—he’s their grifter-in-chief, selling tax cuts to the comfortable while Labour trails behind him, too timid to name the real enemy.
Let’s not pretend this is clever politics. It’s cowardice. The real danger is not that Labour contines to lose votes to Reform. It’s that it becomes Reform, in language, in policy, and in the cruel calculus of who gets to belong.
A slick salesman of decline, Farage offers Lincolnshire nothing but cuts dressed as efficiency. This isn’t a grassroots revolution. it’s a racket, and you will foot the bill.
Reform UK is rising not because it has answers, but because Labour no longer asks the questions, and in the silence, rage finds its voice.
Britain is broken, but not in the way Nigel Farage imagines. In his vision, mass deportations and the dismantling of human rights law will somehow reverse decades of decline
Nigel Farage’s rise is not simply the product of voter disillusionment but the result of a liberal media too fearful, too compromised, and too complicit to confront the reactionary politics they helped create.
Some might be fooled by the swivel-eyed sermons about “free speech” or “common sense.” But Farage is no friend of workers. His party would criminalise strikes, deregulate labour protections, and deport those without paperwork faster than you can say “hostile environment.” The deeper appeal comes not from anything tangible, but from the thrill of performative cruelty.
Farage’s tanks aren’t new, they’re the tanks of the 1970s, steered by mad generals and aimed squarely at working-class power.
Faragism dresses up reactionary economics and authoritarian instincts in the costume of working-class revolt, but delivers only nostalgia, nationalism, and neoliberalism in disguise.
Nigel Farage has never needed to hold power to wield it, his true influence lies in his ability to warp the political landscape, forcing the mainstream ever closer to his vision of permanent insurgency.