Far-right round up

Eddie Stampton: Violent vegetable fetishist

The week began with telling the tale of how a gang of old nazis got drunk in Preston in memory of John Tyndall, the founder of the British National Party (BNP). Most of those who attended had betrayed him in life so it only seems fair they meet every year to remember what a bitter and twisted nobody he was.

I doubt Tyndall would be turning too much in his grave if he was to see the current state of the party he founded. When he was being hounded out of the party by Nick Griffin he did warn that it would all go pear shaped eventually. It took a little longer than he imagined, obviously.

What happens in the BNP now, is anyone’s guess. Despite very mixed messages from Griffin as to what is be done to save his bacon and at the same time (now) destroy the party, the wind has slightly gone out of the sails of both factions.

Griffin’s side is claiming that they have some 300 people already backing him in his bid to launch a “new” movement. Whether 300 people can actually raise enough cash annually to keep Griffin and his entourage of family, syconphants and friends bathed in trips to Europe, the off-license and expensive steak houses is unlikely. You can bet your bottom dollar that Griffin will be demanding a hefty stipend for leading his own fan club.

Griffin’s plan, according to his daft son in law Angus, is to exile himself- like Mosley did, in foreign climes. That way, thinks Griffin, he will be able to evade the establishment of those hidden Zionists who are trying to hound him for the money he owes everywhere, but also allow him to live cheaper than he could do in the UK. Then he could drive across Europe and through the Channel Tunnel occasionally, deliver a speech, sell some cheap fags and booze (like the good old days in the European Parliament) to his supporters, and lead a revolutionary street movement etc, etc.

France has been declared a family favourite, but to make this pipe dream really work, Griffin is suggesting even further into the continent. Hungary is a warm favourite with Griffin. Our own man there does confirm that a carton of Benson & Hedges is something like £26 on a good day for the English pound and knocking out cartons of fags for £50 a pop could be a nice little earner for Griffin if he manages to get his supporters to pay his petrol over on visits. Isn’t this plan rather bizarre?

Who knows, but Griffin’s always chased a quid no matter how daft or incoveneient the plan actually is. His London meeting that was set for next week has now been postponed due to the venue they had being “double booked”, apparently. Yes, in a city of eight million people there is only one meeting room! There certainly won’t be 300 people supporting Griffin when they realise he’s actually going on another piss up with his European friends instead of a night of coleslaw and baked beans in London.

Those who control what is left of the BNP, the intellectually challenged “Wigton” faction have now officially stopped suspending/expelling people. What with membership renewal time fast approaching, they still have some 700 members to convince to follow them into oblivion for next year.

Conference: As if any of them can write

With this in mind, they’re preparing their annual conference in Blackpool for the end of November. Interestingly, the Griffin faction will also be in Blackpool at the same time. Aware of how this could turn nasty, Patrick Harrington is suggesting that the BNP does not go to Blackpool at all. Wherever the party does end up, it will not be at their previously favourite venue. No doubt Harrington knows of all kinds of clubs, bars and hotels around the country that cater for people with peculiar tastes..

Rebel: Griffin’s launch to counter the BNP

Blackpool will also play host to more naughty nazis earlier in November, when they hold a demostration over the missing school girl Charlene Downes. Charlene’s Mother, Karen, should probably help with the police investigation and maybe one day the poisonous little cretin Jack Renshaw will grow up.

Renshaw: Tory boy meets Thunderbirds

And finally, Eddie Stampton’s glamour published and ghost written autobiography has hit the bedroom floors of his drunken friends. No fewer than a whole five copies of his published work of fiction have been delivered to Eddie.

Five books with the glue licked out