We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia’s wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God’s scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.
The Secret People
Well, the people of England are speaking now. Time for Starmer and his incompetants to start listening, before it’s to late.
Welcome to Riot Britain: No ID Required at Check-In
It was a Bank Holiday weekend in Britain — that ancient festival of drizzle, traffic jams and, now, riots outside hotels. Who needs Punch and Judy when you can have placard-waving, smoke bombs and a chorus of “Deport, deport, deport!” performed with all the precision of a drunken karaoke night?
- Norwich gave us its own Saturday Night Fever at the Brook Hotel. Hundreds marched from the pub, proving once again that nothing says serious political movement like warm lager and a borrowed megaphone.
- In Birmingham, 30 protesters gathered at the Castle Bromwich Holiday Inn. They brought ladders to hang flags — a thrilling mix of DIY SOS and Carry On Camping.
- Over in London’s Canary Wharf, the Britannia Hotel was graced by the presence of protesters guarded by police and private security. One could almost smell the artisan coffee and irony: Canary Wharf bankers too busy fiddling with spreadsheets to notice, while outside, Britain’s latest street theatre troupe rehearsed Act One of “The Immigration Question.”
- Meanwhile in Bristol, Liverpool, Horley, Aberdeen and Mold, anti-migrant marchers and counter-protesters staged a Punch-up for the People. Fifteen arrests later, the taxpayer footed yet another bill — this time for policing instead of potholes.
And across the land, from Portsmouth to Cardiff, hotels became unlikely battlegrounds. Once upon a time, the worst you’d encounter in a Travelodge was a broken kettle or a missing remote control. Now it’s riot vans and smoke flares. Progress, apparently.
And What of Shropshire?
Here in our tranquil corner, the councillors sat it out, of course — all political persuasions united in the noble art of saying absolutely nothing.
- Labour and the Lib Dems were mute, except perhaps to wonder if these hotels could double up as conference venues.
- The Conservatives stayed quieter than a pothole inspection report.
- Even Reform UK, once so loud you could hear them from Craven Arms to Carlisle, now sit hushed — perhaps stunned by the terrifying weight of actual opposition.
- Over to The Plough Public House, suddenly closed, And if you want a case study in how silence breeds rumours — look no further than The Plough. Closed overnight, whispers say it may yet reopen… not as a pub, but as an HMO. Progress, Shropshire-style.
- And then there was Cllr Duncan Kerr, the Only Green in the Village. Ever ready with a bicycle bell and a press release, yet oddly silent when HMOs sprout like knotweed across Oswestry, one in his own Ward of Oswestry South. He’s been more elusive than Greta Thunberg at a Top Gear reunion.
When the smoke grenades went up across Britain, our councillors pulled the blinds and settled into their armchairs. Courageous silence is, after all, the Shropshire way.
Finale
So Britain staggers on: asylum seekers parked in hotels, protesters auditioning for Love Island: Car Park Edition, and police clocking enough overtime to buy shares in Serco. And Shropshire’s political class? Don’t be daft — they’re as invisible as Keir Starmer’s principles and as useful as Prince Andrew at a Girl Guides fundraiser. The Lib Dems promised change — remember when they swore they’d scrap the green bin tax? Instead, we’ve gone from bad government to silent government. A triumph of progress, bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘what’s the point?’
If this is leadership, then the circus is in safe hands.
And our illustrious Member of Parliament? Missing once more — presumably busy drafting another leaflet reminding us how hard she’s working while saying nothing at all
And Finally… The Forgotten Promise
Richard Cooper is now confirmed as Chief Constable of West Mercia Police, the third in as many years. Stability, they call it. John Campion, the Police and Crime Commissioner, heralded it as ‘the beginning of a new focus,’ complete with the usual PowerPoint nouns: stability, continuity, progress, ‘safe and feel safe.’ Fine words. But here’s the real question………
What happened to that solemn pledge in Parliament — yes, yet another one — for a full-blown, country-wide investigation into “grooming gangs”? It was trumpeted with the usual brass band of moral outrage, nods of contrition, and the solemn declaration that this time, lessons really had been learned. And then? Silence. Tumbleweed. A Parliamentary promise joining the long graveyard of “never agains.”
Meanwhile, here in Shropshire, we might politely ask:
- West Mercia Police — under the stewardship of Chief Constable Richard Cooper — are we to believe that no one still wearing the uniform was involved in the decades-long catastrophe in Telford? Were all the officers who turned a blind eye spirited away to another galaxy, or are they still punching the clock, pension pots intact?
- Telford & Wrekin Council — so quick to issue glossy leaflets on recycling, yet strangely reluctant to recycle those senior managers who presided over industrial-scale abuse. Did anyone actually get fired? Or is accountability, like transparency, just another buzzword trotted out for public meetings?
- Social Services in Telford — tasked with protecting children, yet somehow managing to protect reputations instead. Are those same managers and caseworkers still drawing salaries, still marking time, still climbing the public-sector ladder while survivors are left to pick up the pieces?
Because if the answer is yes — if the people complicit in one of Britain’s worst child-protection scandals are still drawing wages from the taxpayer — then we have our answer to that Parliamentary “promise”: it was nothing more than a headline-grabber, a soundbite to get MPs through the news cycle.
The Final Sarcasm
Britain doesn’t need another “full-blown investigation.” We’ve had inquiries, reviews, commissions, and enough hand-wringing to give the nation repetitive strain injury. What Britain needs is something radical, almost revolutionary: accountability. Actual consequences.
Until then, the victims remain forgotten, the perpetrators laugh in the shadows, and the institutions — police, council, social services — carry on regardless. And Parliament? It smiles, makes another promise, and wheels out the phrase “lessons will be learned.”
Lessons have been learned, all right. The lesson is simple: if you’re a victim, don’t expect justice. If you’re an official, don’t worry — you’re untouchable.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, brings a whole new meaning to “what’s the point?”
By the way, can anyone remind me what the Police and Crime Commissioner is actually for? Apart from issuing press releases and posing for photos with Chief Constables, of course. Perhaps we can have a whip round and buy the poor fellow a new suit — one with deeper pockets for all those promises that never quite see daylight.
The Alternative Council 