Few people in this country- even seasoned fascist watchers, will have heard of the group ‘Right Wing Resistance’. There’s a reason for that; like a lot of the groups that pop up they are often very tiny bedroom and bedsit affairs manned and staffed by lonesome and midnight cowboys with little more than a laptop and a box of Kleenex at their disposal.
Of course, they all have revolutionary potential. Hours and hours spent wanking in their bedrooms whilst wearing oversized boots is bound to send anybody over the edge. As well as delivering hours of fun-filled porn for fallen Fuhrers, the internet has allowed tiny groups of fascists to dominate entire Facebook pages with their other fantasises; leading huge movements of revolutionary white folk into some kind of dreamy battle against hordes of blacks, Asians, Muslims, Gays, Cultural Marxists, etc, etc.
I know. For a moment you thought ‘Right Wing Resistance’ was going to be some kind of Daily Mail campaign against Gay marriage. It is not. These lads and lassies from Right Wing Resistance are the very sort of people who take advantage of the liberal society they so hate by never working or contributing but instead spitting at people of different colours going to work on the bus. Most of them would be first up against the wall under the very regimes they so love and admire from the comfort of their bedrooms at night.
We first heard properly of Right Wing Resistance (RWR) after the ill-fated foray by fascists into Liverpool last year. A swashbuckling Swedish sausage named Peter Kramer had travelled by plane, train and automobile in his finest fantasist and fetish gear to get there only to sit in a pub surrounded by plonkers and bananas. And he was not happy.
Kramer’s British compatriot was one Gary Crane. Like Kramer, Crane’s a dreamer with too much time on his hands. The unemployable plonker also has large boots, a tattoo and a uniform cobbled together on EBay- just like what is says to do on page 69 of Mein Kampf.
Crane is the self-declared “Major” of RWR Britain. Yes, he is a right major. He even made his missus a “warrant officer” because there is nothing wrong with a bit of nepotism when it comes to getting your nazi knickers cleaned and ironed.
Recently though, Crane has fled RWR headquarters in Kilmarnock, Scotland, and left his warrant officer missus to be with another woman in Yorkshire, England. The new missus has been promoted to “Sergeant at Arms” of RWR, which must mean she must be polishing Crane’s boots, too. No sooner had he upped and left his wife, the Daily Record in Scotland ran an arduous story about Crane’s activities while he was living in Scotland.
Despite him not wearing a mask, they ‘unmasked’ Crane in his full moronic glory. It was the usual story of a middle aged man hanging around with young kids. Helpfully, the Scottish newspaper pointed at that Crane was really an Englishman, which I’m sure made his poison twice as tasteless as an English ‘tattie’ to them.
The article managed to name just about every member of RWR (five) which sort of deflated the sexy feeling I’m sure their readership were getting about this group even if the group does, as the paper pointed out, “have cells around the world.” Even if they’re not brain cells, we know now that they exist. Of course, you cannot buy this sort of publicity even if you do send one of your minor minions to the newspaper with the story themselves.
A couple of days later, the Daily Mirror ran a follow up to their sister paper’s story. Crane denied he was a nazi. Sort of. Sadly for Mrs Crane, who has since been demoted, the paper went knocking on her door for a comment. At the time, ‘Major’ Crane was stumped up his “Sargent at Arms” south of the border. According to the Mirror, Crane is brainwashing “young Brits” which is what we call Scottish kids and Scottish tennis players down here in England. According to the Mirror “Crane talked up his standing within the organisation, declaring: “I am the UK leader, the European leader and fourth in command worldwide.” Which is impressive, but not as impressive as if he had, say, declared himself an unemployed Austrian artist. But never mind.
All of this publicity has had a tremendous effect on Crane’s standing within the depleted nazi circles in the far-right in Britain. And his libido too, probably. Other jealous little nazis have been sniping at him, saying terrible things about his prowess and badges.
Crane has now decided (as is the want of a leader of many, many internet men, boys and girls,) to try and re-write history. The picture of Crane taken with the Swede Kramer and Shane Calvert in Liverpool last year is seen by many as evidence that Crane bottled it on the big day and ran and hid in the pub with the other cowards on the day. Yes, while the kids and other assorted toe-rags hid in the left luggage at Liverpool’s Lime Street station on the day, a whole host of cowards hid themselves in a pub. Namely Crane, Calvert and Kramer.
Well, last night, Crane came out fighting. According to himself he was outside the station “fighting …. on my own.”
I’m sorry to say Gary, that’s not how we recall your trip to Liverpool. We captured your arrival and swift departure. We captured you and a very young man running away from the station with a natty flag. You ran all the way to the pub and met up with your cowardly mates. That’s what really happened.
But anyway, we’ll pass your confession to the police in Liverpool.