Britain's Soul Is In Lockdown - Elon Musk Sees Tommy Robinson As The Key

Is Tommy Robinson the fulcrum on which UK politics will turn?

A country afraid of its heroes will inevitably elect its cowards. There is no better example than Great Britain, land of unfree and the home of the serf. Modern Britain is a nation run by foreigners, for foreigners and that is its future. While globalist scum like Biden, Macron and Trudeau are being elbowed into history’s dustbin, the British right is swinging hard left and they want the world to know it. As the most hated UK regime in living memory crumbles before our eyes, the self-selected leader of the opposition -Nigel Farage- is busy re-educating his voters. Nigel’s party is named ‘Reform’ -which apparently means “Rewind” as in “Replay the mass-immigration policies of the last 20 years”. Courtesy of Elon Musk -an American billionaire who, unlike Nigel, has no new best friends in Westminster- Pakistani child-rape gangs are back in the headlines -and that is where the trouble really starts.

Headlines being Nigel Farage’s personal territory of choice, he is now paddling madly to get in front of the Musk v Starmer story, while kicking sand in the face of the British hero who chose to die on that very hill. Not for the first time, Nigel Farage is prancing in Tommy Robinson’s footprints while claiming to blaze a trail.

It takes some nerve to steal the thunder of a prophet, but Farage is fearless -so long as his victim is safely behind bars. In search of a headline Farage would nick the laces from Tommy’s shoes if they weren’t locked in a jail cell. But it’s the jealous sneer that reveals Nigel as the eternal shadow puppet. Preening for his beloved TV cameras, the Reform party leader refuses point blank to even acknowledge let alone praise the uniquely tormented political prisoner who gave up his freedom rather then embrace the lie of Islamic integration. Suddenly Nigel has discovered an England plagued by immigrant pedophile gang-rapists, and he wants the T-shirt, the medals and a round of applause.

Turn the clock back a decade and there’s a different star over the stable. Speared and bloodied before the baying crowd, like a cornered bull Tommy Robinson roared alone for over a decade as the elite left-mob jeered their hatred of him and his underclass kin. Eyes fixed on the prize of reclaiming the culture into which he was born, Tommy fought on unbowed. But now, with Kier Starmer’s raving woke regime on the brink of collapse, party leader Nigel Farage will not lift one finger in Robinson’s honour, and babbles like a stooge when pressed for a reason why.

Let’s just take a moment and throw a little light on the United Kingdom’s official Prince of Darkness, the Luton Lazarus, the man they couldn’t kill, the one and only Tommy Robinson. It was he who outed the pedophile Muslim gang-rapists- he who defied the state/media propaganda dragons and spoke the unspeakable truth to power. And last but not least, Mr Farage, it was Tommy Robinson who drove the bulldozer that cleared the path for your Reform party to approach the gates of power.

Shame on Nigel Farage and his co-flunkies that it takes an American billionaire to explain why it is Tommy Robinson and not Farage himself that holds the key to overturning the three-wheeled woke-wagon of the British state. A system as wholly corrupted as Britain’s needs a political wrecking ball, but Nigel Farage isn’t interested in the dirty work. The word bluster could have been coined for him; he is a bluffer to the core. He would rather sign a contract than swing a hammer, and only an idiot negotiates with a dictatorship. The one excuse for the Reform party’s existence is to rip the woke heart out of Westminster and put Britain’s national suicide-program into reverse. If Tommy Robinson isn’t good enough for the Reform party then Reform isn’t good enough for Britain. If Musk can see that from a thousand miles away, anyone can. Let me spell it out a real, Robinsonian manifesto for you, Nigel, before you start reprinting Tony Blair’s.

1. An immediate and complete halt to all legal immigration until further notice.

2. Enforce our national border. An immediate and complete halt to the cross-channel taxi service that enables the illegal migrant invasion of our coast. If they drown, they drown by their own choice; europe is not a war zone. The EU accepted these economic chancers in, let the EU supply their hotels, hospitals and free money.

3. Arrest all illegal migrants who arrive on British beaches, put them on government-run cross-channel ferries (dozens of ideal, purpose-built vessels are available to be commandeered by government decree) and return them to Calais in handcuffs. What are the French going to do -declare war?

4. Mass deportation and repatriation of violent foreign criminals and their families beginning immediately. Declare a state of emergency and reject every last part of the ‘Human Rights’ racket that magically ‘supercedes’ our own laws. Britain is an independent nation state. Deport all immigrants -legal and illegal- convicted of violent crimes. No exceptions; no excuses. Britain is a small island; there is no room for rapists; kick them out.

“But, but, but…” say Nigel & co. “…muh Hooman Rights Act…muh international obligations… muh practical difficulties…”

Nigel Farage will never, ever announce the above agenda -the only manifesto that can save Britain - because he has absolutely no intention of reversing the migrant invasion. On this make-or-break issue the Man of the People is already back-pedalling so fast his pin-striped arse is on fire. From the very first day after his election as a Right Honourable (don’t laugh) Member of Parliament, he has been spinning like a top. Asked on camera if he would, given the power, pursue mass-deportation he waffles that the situation is already too dire for such a solution. Among the many other ‘insurmountable problems’ Nigel foresees that mass deportations would alienate the existing muslim community. Ye gods. ‘Sorry chaps’, Mr Brexit is effectively saying, ‘we can’t go rocking the diversity boat.’ How far left will Farage go before Reform party supporters wake up and smell the globalism?

Let me jog readers’ memories with a quick trip down memory lane to December 4th 2018 -a mere seven years ago, when the glow of Brexit was still warm enough to let us dream of better days ahead…

[to read the full Guardian article click here]

Nigel, you my be assured, had recieved the memo direct from number 10. You’ve had your five minutes, pal, now get back in your lane. How quickly the public forgets the leap from one vine to the next in the Westminster jungle. History repeats, however, and here it comes again.

WINNING THE PHONEY WAR

Every single day Reform’s eager-beaver cheerleaders on Youtube shriek from the digital front-lines of delusional battles they never fail to win, slaughtering woke dragons with deadly block capital letters: FARAGE DESTROYS STARMER! NIGEL GOES NUCLEAR ON TWO TIER KIER! NEW REFORM POLL SAYS LABOUR ARE FINISHED! While this phony war rages in bloodless, empty cyberspace, with each passing day Nigel Farage looks, sounds and acts more like a Labour Party MP circa 1997. You won’t catch Nigel on BBC Question Time saying ‘Pakistani muslim pedophiles’ or ‘immigrant child-rapists’. Nigel says 'grooming gangs’ just like they tell you to in the Uniparty Book of Wokespeak. When the odious, repulsive snake that is Kier Starmer esses its way across the House of Commons floor for a word in Nigel’s ear, does Mr Brexit glare in open loathing? No, a sweaty palm lands a pat on the back and ho ho ho let’s face it we’re all in this club together and -oh look, we’re wearing the same colour tie ha ha ha see you next week.

Fun fact: if it looks like a duck, moves like a duck, quacks like a duck, eats and drinks like duck, chances are it’s a duck.

Even if you persist in believing there is an honest patriotic bone left in Farage’s body, you cannot fail to see that he remains in love with the pseudo-democratic puppet-theatre that has already sold Britain to the highest bidder in the global marketplace. He is drunk on the scent of power, and in Westminster the bars never close.

Nigel Farage and his supposed opponent are two sides of the same coin. With his back to the wall Kier Starmer stated on the record that he prefers Davos and the WEF over Britain’s House of Commons. By the same token, at the faintest whiff of a threat to his precious career Farage invariably puts the wishes of the British establishment before the wishes of the British people.

The acid test came when Farage was invited into Starmer’s magic circle of forbidden knowledge regarding the blanket of secrecy imposed after the brutal Southport massacre of innocent schoolgirls in July. After a ‘private briefing’ with Good Queen Starmer, Farage puffed out his pigeon-chest and muttered darkly about possessing secrets he was sworn not to reveal -so full of his own self-importance he failed to realise the entire public were willing -begging him- to speak out and tell us what we should know by right. The insider truth about the betrayal of this country belongs to us, not some foul theatrical troupe of pretend politicians. It is 100 percent our business when innocent British children are butchered in the kind of imported third-world killing frenzy enabled by 25 years of corrupt government. But Farage merely postured, grumbled and kept his lips sealed like the good little uniparty apparatchik he always longed to be.

In that moment he missed the chance of a lifetime. If he had ignored Starmer’s gag order and opened the can of Southport worms right there and then, the aftermath would likely have brought down the Labour government and triggered a general election. Yes, there would have been chaos. Yes there would have been riots and nasty words and various other unpleasant things that must happen in order to end a reign of terror. But that is the state in which millions of ordinary British people now live. Dire straits require dramatic actions.

The chaos would have passed and in the aftermath election Reform could only have triumphed, backed with all the righteous anger of a nation finally given the chance to confront the traitorous nature of its fake leaders. In August of 2024 the British public was already at boiling point; dragged to the brink of explosion by the most monstrous governmental cover-up this century -and Farage bottled it.

He chose instead to endorse the Uniparty’s code of collective silence, and joined their ‘not in front of the children’ club. When he should have screamed from the rooftops and bellowed in rage, Farage held his tongue. I was not one bit surprised that in the weeks that followed he was repeatedly spotted joking and joshing with Starmer in the House of Commons. To Farage, protecting the rotten parliamentary system was what mattered -even in its current degraded incarnation as the local branch of the WEF. Politics, alas, is Nigel’s sole talent, and he subscribes to that repulsive elite mantra that the institution is more important than the people.

Screw that for a game of soldiers. We’re not having some abstract debate here, we are facing the obliteration of Britain as a unique nation state. For 25 years we have endured stealth colonisation from the third world, engineered by the traitors we were duped into electing. Now nobody wants to confront the hideous but inevitable consequences - like the mass-rape of thousands of innocent children. This is not a hypothetical argument -it’s a literal hands-on fight for survival.

Never forget that it was Tommy Robinson who identified the prime enemy of Britain -and indeed the civilised west- as fanatical Islamism. The truth of this is so far beyond argument it beggars belief that anyone can disagree with a straight face. In the years since Robinson’s first prescient warnings, crazed Islamist jihadis have massacred men, women and children in public in London, Paris, Madrid and all across Germany. On the very first day of 2025 a deranged maniac brought the curse of car-murder to the streets of New Orleans, adding the USA to the jihadi moto-murder club.

There is no upper limit to our anger for this kind of atrocity, hence the eruption of outrage at the state-sponsored protective circle erected around the animalistic immigrant gangs who have been abusing British children seemingly at will for decades. Many -far too many- of these human scum are now free and running thriving businesses in the UK. Every sane human left in the country knows these monsters should have been caged and repatriated to the shit-strewn hell-holes that spawned them. But as stated above, deportation is a bridge too far for nifty Nigel Farage, who curls up like a singed worm at the merest mention of the D word.

It was Tommy Robinson -and for years no-one else of note- who hammered on the doors of mass media demanding that the epidemic of Pakistani pedophile gang-rape in England be exposed and purged from our shores. In return he was slandered, attacked, and repeatedly imprisoned under evermore absurd pretences. The modern left’s very own Emmanuel Goldstein, the mere mention of his name would conjure psychotic visions of swastika parties in the addled minds of BBC-level TV viewers. Yet none of Robinson’s activities were ever ‘far right’ -until the insane neo-liberals moved so far to the extreme left that the term itself was rendered meaningless. It was Tommy’s bad luck to be born in an era when liberal extremism was being force-fed to a generation of idle slackers indoctrinated into sheepish compliance.

Tommy Robinson, you see, has zero appeal for the Guardian-reading antifashionistas who wept and wailed for their idolised middle-class info-warrior Julian Assange. A man from the wrong side of the liberal tracks, Tommy’s in-your-face on-the-spot reporting was too vulgar, too true, too bloody common for their taste. Yet too smart to swallow the multicultural lie that infinite mass-migration from jihadi hotbeds was a blessing and not a curse.

Oh how dearly Tommy’s enemies would have loved to print a single quote or fact that placed him on the wrong side of anything racial at all -but they never have or could because he never was. Invited to accept him into the Reform party fold Nigel Farage shudders, squawking “Criminal!” as if finding Hannibal Lecter lurking in his bathroom. Yes, Tommy Robinson has convictions on his CV but far less than most politicians would, if the police pursued their misdeeds with half the manic energy brought to bear on Luton’s favourite son. Ye gods, once you dig into the mountain of state-sponsored superbly-worded slanderspeak, Tommy Robinson’s major convictions were actually for:

(1) Winning a brawl with a drunk, off-duty police officer. (2) Exaggerating his income on a mortgage application (2) Reporting live from outside a gang-rape trial (3) Showing the public a documentary film exposing state lies and corruption, when ordered not to by a state-appointed judge.

Under examination, Robinson’s list of arrests is mainly a predictable catalogue of crafty fabrications and naked lawfare; precisely the tactics leveraged against Nigel Farage’s very own idol Donald Trump. Is Nigel unaware that in his home town of New York Trump was convicted for exaggerating his wealth in a loan application? Like Tommy did, Donald pointed out that the loan concerned had been repaid in full, and -like Tommy did-observed that the prosecution was farcical because there was no victim who could claim to have suffered. Trump, of course, won’t be going to jail. I do not, however, recall Farage howling “CRIMINAL!” after that particular courtroom verdict. It’s pretty obvious that from Nigel’s perspective Tommy Robinson is, alas, a few billion short of a Reform Party picnic.

Here’s a question some Reform party MP might usefully ask of the government. How many of the hundreds of Pakistani pedophile rapists have had their mortgage application forms scrutinised by forensic squads from Scotland Yard? How many bank loans for mosque-building have resulted in prison sentences for lies and ‘misrepresentations’ by self-appointed muslim ‘community’ leaders?

Crime, you see, is very much in the eye of the beholder. In police-state Britain, the law is only blind until it’s needed. When Sir Kier Starmer holed up in his rich gay chum’s penthouse during a covid Lockdown, that was just dandy. When the Prime Minister’s nose-in-the-trough antics were exposed, he quickly found a convenient bag of cash to square the deal, because he wasn’t ever lying or cheating, perish the thought. He had just ‘carelessly allowed the appearance of impropriety’ or somesuch wordy bullshit. Ah, the oily flow of English language as only a lawyer can spout it. Move on, peasant, nothing to prosecute here.

All Tommy Robinson’s long sojourns in prison have been spent in the psychological torture of solitary confinement -to prevent his murder at the hands of Islamist prison-gangs- although he has no convictions for any racial offence whatsoever. Robinson has never broken any of Britains kaleidoscopic range of anti-racism laws because -unlike the thousands who would cheerfully see him killed- there is not a racist bone in his body. A punch-up, naughty form-filling and journalism? This is Britain’s arch super-villain?

Many erstwhile Reform fans have boggled at the stomach-churning spectacle of Nigel Farage pretending he somehow exists on an elevated plane that is morally and politically beyond Robinson’s reach. In reality, Farage has built his career by pulling rhetorical rabbits out of Tommy’s hat and waving them for the cameras. While talking one hell of a fight, when push comes to shove and the establishment rattles his cardboard cage, Nigel quietly tiptoes to the sidelines to await new orders from above.

Dazzled by the prospect of a term in the (all but meaningless) hot seat of Downing Street, Farage hears only the siren voices of the deep-state whores reminding him that Prime Ministership is a reward reserved for those who appreciate how the machine works, and will gladly swallow bitter pills to taste that sweet wine of celebrity.

THE BREXIT THAT NEVER WAS

Farage has been dining out on the Brexit referendum victory for 9 years now, and nobody would deny that he stood at the tip of that spear, or begrudge him his moment of glory. However, desperate to shore up his own legacy, for nearly a decade Nigel has studiously avoided admitting that in the aftermath Brexit never actually happened. He is far from blameless in that debacle, as he repeatedly traded and connived with the Tories, who moved mountains to create an emasculated post-Brexit ‘deal’ that should never have been permitted. The entire EU facade could and should have been swept from the national books within a fortnight; instead the Tories -abetted by Farage- contrived to disguise the grim truth that nothing of substance was ever changed.

A long time ago a shrewd wag quipped that politics is showbusiness for ugly people and so it is that Nigel thinks the spotlight is his for the taking. But it’s a trap. Unless he embraces Tommy Robinson as the co-architect of his new right-wing consensus, Farage will never carry the people with him into power. Instead he will, nodding and winking to his uniparty colleagues, accept the command to ditch the plebs at door of number 10. He will then, as pre-ordained, recieve his instructions, be assimilated into the parliamentary Borg and swiftly chewed to pieces in its jaws. Nigel Farage will always trade off integrity for attention, fall into the welcoming arms of the fake Conservatives he secretly adores and ultimately submit to the process of Britain’s descent into third-world status.

Another day, another scratch on the brick wall of a cell. Tommy Robinson puts yet another line through 24 hours alone on a hard bunk in a locked room. Somewhere in London, confronting himself in a mirror, the Right Honourable Nigel Farage adjusts his tie and fastens his cuff links. A driver is waiting downstairs to take him to the TV studio where he will -after a quick trip to the make-up room- explain to the public how awful things are, and why he and he alone can be trusted to put things right.

So here’s to you, Tommy Robinson, Nigel hates you more than you will know, go go go! Get on your knees Tommy Robinson, Wandsworth has a cell for thugs like you -oo oo oo, yes they do…

Ian Andrew-Patrick