Some on the far right do it harder than others. Take Britain First. Please. Paul Golding and his disciples of doom have been busy spending their supporters’ money by returning to their war against tourism and dishing out punishment beatings to hotel bars.
Up and down Britain they have been in their little van without mentioning either Trip Advisor or the outcome of their latest supposed legal wrangles. Your lucre is in fine hands there, folks.
Last week there were only four emails to our offices from people demanding they be removed from the Britain First mailing list. Seriously!
Britain First’s officer in charge of besmirching Jesus and table 11 at every conceivable Wetherspoons en route to nowhere, ‘Pontif’ Paul Golding, is keen to tell the remaining Britain First audience about how he is building his massive army from town to town,
coast to toast and beans on toast.
At one such recent meeting/rally, held a long way away from his Essex home, was none other than (again) Andy ‘Nightmare’ Frain, one of Britain’s most notorious football hooligans. [Apologies for the source of that article]
Yes, Golding snuck Frain into the back of the room thinking not only would it bolster the numbers, but that we would not notice. Come, come, sir. Did you miss camouflage training?
What Frain and Golding see in each other is an absolute mystery to some. I don’t know why… Maybe Frain has something about him to liven up Golding on those boring road trips?
Frain, of course, gives much needed kudos to the Britain First team as it meanders meaninglessly around the country with a begging bowl in search of another few quid and a confrontation with a large breakfast buffet.
Frain’s kudos is that not only is he well connected with other football hooligans up and down Britain, he also has Loyalist credentials. Here he is looking jolly, resplendent and happy on one of the many marches he attends around the country.
It’s been a long time since Golding was featured with another one of his loyalist heroes [no, not Jim Dowson], but Johnny Adair.
We’ve heard little from Golding of late about his other cash cow, the Britain First ‘patrol boat’ which was supposed to protect the motherland from the threat of bearded and shabby-looking foreigners in search of a sanctuary and a better life. Has this mighty ship since sunk under the weight of the sovereigns his supporters were throwing at it? Was it repossessed or reclaimed by its actual owner? We’ll never know.
The disappearance of the Britain First boat has quite literally left our borders unprotected and at the mercy of the RNLI. And we all know how the far right hate those ‘snowflakes’ going out to sea and rescuing people.
In response to the ‘border crisis’ and the ‘millions’ of people arriving on our stony beaches in search of a BMW and a part on Love Island, it borders itself on a nationl(ist) humiliation that the landlubbing bugger Golding has committed some kind of mutiny and borrowed himself a couple of vans and headed inland to the comfort of hotels and lashings upon lashings of late night Chinese takeaways instead of his holy war.
Motourmouth fails history test
Golding’s old mentor, the motor-mouthed meanie Jim Dowson, has also been out and about, not just promoting himself as the inspiration for ‘Loudsamoney’ (you millennial types will have to Google that) but as some kind of wisened former Irish paramilitary.
Interviewed on an internet service only faceless kids and the security services bother with, the new ‘Nazi’ kids on the block have been lapping up Jim’s tales of paramilitary membership, fundraising- and no less, his former plan to stab me with some kind of gardening appliance!!
Having dispensed with the aforementioned Britain First, which he did indeed form and then dump because they turned (in his own words), ‘mad’, Dowson was waxing lyrical not just about his own wealth, but the wealth of others he has used to build a chapel (of all things) in his front garden.
What with Jim’s admitted history of hanging around and leading the prayers of sectarian murder gangs, his Catholic neighbours must be absolutely delighted to hear he’s built a place where he can also now bury them. Talking about such unholy things, below is a pic of one of Dowson’s (few) Catholic friends, Niall McConnell of the bizarre but grandly named, Síol na hÉireann group, seemingly preparing for such an event.
Above: Niall McConnell, Jim Dowson’s totally normal and Catholic friend
Old man Dowson’s obsession with me and HOPE not hate continued with a bizarre recollection of the times we’ve rubbed shoulders. Yes, we did meet once in a country pub in County Down surrounded by allegedly armed men and later in Budapest, in a restaurant where he and his chum Nick Griffin paraded around surrounded by Nazi militia thugs trying to terrorise my Irish colleague.
Dowson’ll be kicking himself though, because although it is a mildly cloudy but entertaining story, he omitted from his recollection that not long after this horrendous and unfortunate meeting, the Jewish centre in Budapest was attacked by those same thugs.
If Dowson thinks (as he apparently does) that all of this is funny or we were somehow terrified at attending his pointless meeting, he should probably ask himself who got him and Griffin booted out of Hungary
On that touchy subject, so desperate (still) is Griffin to leave our shores, he has graciously conceded the rumour of him being held and deported from Hungary last month is indeed true. Still unable to use the internet properly, Griffin could’ve avoided the Hungarian substitute for porridge had he just checked his entry status online. Still, he does have extensive form already of travelling anywhere on this (flat) earth of his for a free feed.
Same again in December, I hear?
Dowson’s sudden interaction with young British neo-Nazis is obviously multi-faceted. After a good few years of avoiding them and being avoided by them, he must seem like some kind of refreshing new injection of bigotry.
The warm up to the interview was a promo video of members of the Loyalist paramilitary group ‘Red Hand Commandoes’ strolling around the Irish countryside some twenty or thirty years ago holding machine guns and pistols. But not each other’s hands.
“We help finance [European] militias and give them training” claimed Dowson of his current activities. Yes, Britain’s most trustworthy and likeable clerical fascist is on a charm offensive trying to sell his bothered God and gun fetish to gullible young fascists who had never previously heard of him.
Painful as it was, I watched Dowson for two hours answering pre-prepared questions in front of a backdrop of the old Encyclopaedias he failed to sell door to door when he was just a wee boy in shorts in his native Ayrshire.
Dowson is on a mission from hell to be honest, because he has a bad investment going worse, in the guise of Jayda Fransen.
“That woman’s a fearsome creature…” Dowson claimed to an audience of pre-pubescent boys sitting at home in their parent’s house Googling for revenge porn. Telling these boys and their empty pockets your product is potentially broken ain’t going to work, Jimbo!
Gobby Goddard returns from gardening leave
The other reason for Dowson’s sudden reappearance is the preparations for a traditional far right internecine squabble and a stubborn ideological intervention. The (continued) failings of Mark Collett’s divided and neurotic Patriotic Allotment (PA) is delighting just about everybody- left and right. And as the recently radicalised members of ‘PA’ struggle to assert themselves in an almost alien environment, Dowson is keen to ensure the younger members of the British far right stop rejecting his beloved Ulster Loyalism.
Of all the changes in the past twenty years, the continuing disinterest in Northern Ireland by young, British fascists has been the most interesting . Not only does it follow a mainstream trend of disinterest and ‘don’t care’ attitudes about the province and the one million UK citizens living there, the traditional fascist hatred of the Irish has given way to a growing interest in each other’s mutual interests. Certainly joint COVID-19 and other conspiracy theories have helped forge interest from the British in the Irish far right. National Action (NA), the first group to break many moulds in British fascism embraced not just the concept of armed struggle (for the sake of violence for violence’s sake) but also some in the group embraced the ideas and ideals of a United Ireland. That (and their love of paedophilia) was one of the reasons for an awkward relationship with more established far right groups.
The idea of an Irish woman leading a British far right party would have been, twenty years ago, unthinkable. And no matter how she has anglicised herself, Anna Maria Waters has never been troubled for her opinions on Northern Ireland. Dowson’s opinions of Waters however, are like something out of the 1980’s.
In his video interview Dowson claimed there would be 100,000 Unionists (Protestants) ready to take up arms tomorrow to defend Northern Ireland- not from the Irish, but from ‘Marxists’. His claim was met with derision by the small number of viewers. White people going to war with white people? It’s anathema to many fascists, and many cannot differentiate nationalism from fascism. Despite having embraced some aspects of the religious zeal of the Irish far right himself, Dowson remains an opportunist, religious bigot determined to not just flog broken down far right leaders to a new generation of fascists, but to keep flogging also the failing paranoia and hatred the British far right had of the Irish. Dowson is desperate that his broken project- Fransen can lead some kind of a revolt against new ideas.
Having started ‘PA’ with so much false hope, panic and promise, Collett has not been able to help himself by allowing it to descend into the same sort of squalor that dictated his and the BNP’s glorious demise ten or so years ago. As his Monosyllabic voice warbles around and about his members of the daily grind of staring at himself in the mirror, all around him the party crashes in acrimony and squabbling. The members are finding the constant gardening, hiking and litter picking beneath them. Not only that, Collett seems to find it particularly beneath himself also.
Just to get to meet Collett and admire his manly hips up close, not only must your wardrobes be inspected within an inch of their hinges you also have to prove that your parents have owned a semi-detached since 1066 and have bought lashings of the tea bags the party sells.
PA’s internal security (run by men who ran the BNP into the ground and held it to ransom also) are increasingly viewed as overbearing as well as incompetent. There’s a surprise. Having a Nazi come to your house and check your wardrobes out before allowing you to go litter picking is deemed somewhat torturous and ridiculous, but Collett’s obsession about wardrobes shows no signs of abating.
The recent idea also, of young party members sharing pictures of themselves in a state of undress with a man in Spain is also not particularly wholesome. And as for getting up at the crack of dawn to drape flags nobody actually sees over motorway bridges, it’s a lesson Collett learned from his old chums in National Action and one which he seems keen to (let others) persist with.
Today, in the midst of hostilities currently being unleashed by Jim Dowson and Jayda Fransen, Collet decided it was the right time to bring out a new brand of soap. ‘Nazi soap’ is what I’d call it, but according to Collett it’s part of his grand plan to “detach ourselves from the system.”
Whilst his old mate Dowson is running around with militias, a church and a cemetery of his own, Collett has decided to get his members into the shower for a good wash.
Yes, Collett has finally realised his Hitler complex. He’s doing it with all the charm and none of the charisma of John Tyndall and a host of former friends are lining up to put the boot in. For some reason in the midst of this almighty fall-out between Hitler admirers and frustrated gardeners, old Jim Dowson sniffs a penny for himself and an opportunity for the dented and indelicate Ms Fransen.
To compound Collett’s misery, the certifiable and recently robed moron that is James Goddard has decided to return to the party after a period of sulking and housekeeping. Goddard does more damage to the English language within five minutes of opening his mouth than can be possibly measured. For some reason, Lord Digby has yet to take issue with him.
Some are claiming Goddard has less than honourable intentions towards the party leader. That’s no surprise, and not Goddard’s only secret.