A sad day for us here at HOPE not hate. Sad times, indeed. Maybe it was something paternal or maternal in us, but we had a soft spot for Kevin Layzell. He was everything a young Nazi should be; he was daft, he was cowardly, he was silly and now he’s been dumped by the BNP.
Those tears he is crying into his Sugar Puffs this morning will be full of salt. Aryan salt.
I for one cannot believe that it is actually less than two years since Kevin burst into our affections with a tea strainer on his head dressed like some cast-off from an amateur pantomime.
We warmed to him. He travelled the country with starched shirts and his Golliwog telling the diminishing world of the BNP how much he hated Gay people and black people. He even gave himself rave reviews on the BNP’s website.
Yes, we’d warmed to Kevin like a strange fruit. Every time he left the house to go on another Nazi activity, I’d breathe silently into my ashtray “take care, little one” as he is, after all, precious cargo.
But I need not have worried about Kevin. He practised nothing if not, self-preservation. Whilst on his Nazi demonstrations calling for people to be attacked and maimed by his comrades, Kevin made sure he was always out of the way when the trouble started. Not for Kevin, ever, a Greek tragedy. Even if it meant ditching his Nazi flag under a table in a pub and hiding, Kevin always made sure he was Ok.
I remember when it was time for Kevin’s first overseas trip. I was furious with his Mother that she had allowed so many dangers and temptations to potentially fall Kevin’s way. Yes, you may recall he went to Sin City… Not Amsterdam, but Brussels, where the BNP were sinning for so long. Cheap beer and cigarettes, women of the night-and day, vino, foreign people etc, etc. The list was endless. But I need not have worried. As the rest of the BNP’s youngsters planned their own carnage, Kevin worked late into the night under typewriter light until he’d ripped his ribbon to shreds, preparing document after document for his wayward chums to read. Yes, they ridiculed him a little.
But as they were out in town, on the “lash”, Kevin kept himself decent and slept under a union flag towel he had brought with him, and not some harsh, foreign linen. Had I been there, surely I would have placed a frozen pea under his mattress to test his holiness.
How things have turned so dreadfully for the future of the white race, is beyond us all. He is young, I suppose. As he aged, Kevin became tempted to do many stupid things. Oh, how I wished the strange case of Benjamin Button had really been the strange case of Kevin Layzell.
He ditched his glasses for a whole week recently thinking he could have a Clark Kent moment. As he sprinted away from a fight he had helped instigate, everyone was impressed by his superb running skills.
But there was also much darkness. Kevin turned against the very man he had sworn to protect, Nick Griffin. He teamed up with a pornographer to remove the Fuhrer. We were shouting “No Kevin! No Kevin!” but he did not or would not listen. We felt Griffin had not done a good enough job of killing off the BNP yet, but Kevin had been bought off.
Back to his bedroom went Kevin with the lucre. An ageing VHS cassette documenting a woman travelling through Dallas in the 1970’s, was all it took Steve Squire to convince Kevin to dump everything he and we, held so dear.
We hit the panic buttons over here. We talked to Hamble, Big Ted and Little Ted, but they could not make Kevin see sense. Golly had gone for a sulk over the whole matter. Kevin was backing the Walker faction! It was selfish of him; just because he was out of school, there was no reason to potentially subject other young children to the dangers of Adam Walker.
But there is always time for good men to come to the aid of the party and Kevin, unable to find a VHS player, began to query Adam Walker’s leadership.
There were tears. After (not) two years of solid heroism came the dreaded expulsion from the party last night. There was a minor tantrum that then became a hurricane. Kevin was expelled. He had not been in the party the two years it takes before you can attack the leadership. Our tea-strained St George had fallen on his plastic sword.
The final insult, perhaps, was that unlike all others, Kevin did not get a letter from the new Chairman telling him he was expelled. No, that pleasure went to Squire, the jilted date-rape boss who Kevin had betrayed.
What Kevin will now do is a mystery. He can hang around with National Action like the rest of the BNP youth wing, but he is hurting. Wisely, he opened the letter from Squire wearing some Spiderman mittens he got for Yuletide.
But it has been fun, Kevin.