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Murray calls the IDF a “citizen army”, as if it were Dad’s Army with drones. In truth, Gaza is a laboratory, where missiles are tested, faces scanned, and children used to perfect the next export.
The manosphere doesn’t challenge male alienation, it monetises it. These men aren’t resisting power. They are its casualties, desperate to be reinstated as its enforcers.
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.
The ICE raid at Home Depot isn’t law enforcement. This is performance of sovereignty. Armed agents posing in camo and Kevlar to detain migrant day labourers is not about public safety, but about staging dominance. It’s capitalism enforcing its border through spectacle: a theatre of control, broadcast from a retail car park, where labour is criminalised and militarism is aestheticised. This isn’t about stopping migration. It’s about punishing poverty and reassuring power.
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.
Trump hasn’t changed, he’s doing what strongmen do: cutting deals, starting wars, appeasing generals. It’s Dugin who’s panicking. The fantasy’s collapsing, so he calls it a globalist takeover. The world isn’t ending. Just his script.
This is what it comes down to: the Labour government wants to put a group of activists who threw red paint at arms factories in the same legal category as ISIS.
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.
