What a stupid bloody phrase. A vacuous, meaningless, media-made trope to describe the largely non-existent, inconsistent, contradictory 1970s buffet of vaguely cobbled together Sixth Form Ideologies. Be Kind on steroids.

With the critical issues facing the united kingdom and litany of pressing concerns on the doorstep - unfettered immigration, illegal invaders, crippling taxation, stagnant growth, geopolitical instability, sky rocketing crime rates - none of which Andy Pandy has even remotely addressed - what is our newly anointed Prime Minister going to do?

Apparently fight the ghost of Margaret Thatcher and pledge to end homelessness.

How?

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Let’s start with that - as it is the only concrete pledge we have thus far been privileged to learn. Social housing wait lists average 2.9 years across the country, with the unending inundation of infinity migration overwhelming supply even more. And what about all those new houses Rayner promised to build? Labour’s manifesto pledged 1.5 million homes over the parliamentary term, averaging around 300,000 per year. Well they have finally reached that target after two and a half. Dilapidated hotels have become migrant manors, while a great many rough sleepers are also foreign born.

Even his own record in Manchester on tackling rough sleeping has been lacklustre at best. Piccadilly Gardens is increasingly looking like an American fentanyl camp. Which reminds me, Shabana Mahmood recently decriminalised rough sleeping. Sounds kindly, but it signals more large scale squalid encampments adored by Roma criminals and addicts who refuse to stay in hostels which require them to get clean.

What else has Andy Pandy pledged? Ah yes. Renationalising stuff.

How?

Let’s start with water. The price tag of taking even just Thames Water into public ownership, which is already circling the plughole, with full nationalisation of the utility and its debts could cost the taxpayer between £4 billion and £10 billion. And that’s not chalking up long term pension burden. Now expand that across all utilities and the price tag is a totally unachievable £200 billion, almost as much as annual NHS expenditure. Then add to that the fact that China is already dragging the UK government to court over the state takeover of British Steel. The Jingye Group is threatening to sue the UK government and seek international arbitration over the nationalisation, with Beijing condemning the control of the Scunthorpe plant on national security grounds as "outright robbery" demanding full compensation for investment losses. China, the Labour Party’s comrades.

Now let’s pair that with Burnham’s unerring obsession with Brussels. Andy Pandy has repeatedly made mawkish overtures about returning to the bosom of Brussels, with his newly departed predecessor already trying to nail the UK to dynamic alignment as part of their reset of relations set to be formalised at a rushed summit in September, with the hope of concretising something in statute ahead of any potential snap election which could now pretty much only be announced after recess, if polling suggests the Burnham bounce could sustain a majority. Dynamic alignment with Single Market regulations, you know, like Competition restrictions and unbundling of ownership, means that these two ambitions would be in direct conflict.

The problem is, because there has been zero town halls, zero leaders debates, zero Paxman-style grillings, zero public addresses and zero democracy surrounding Andy Pandy’s auto-annointment, none of these facile objectives have been even remotely interrogated. Just lapped up like a Year 2 poster project by fawning parents.

Now underscore the lot of it with the harbinger of doom - the IMF’s - reaffirmation to ‘Too Big To Bail Out’ Blighty that without radical overhaul of overheads, nominally the ever ballooning welfare cost which Labour backbenchers performatively and indulgently denied the last time the Welfare Reform Act was tabled in Parliament, and the backdrop is one of a lurching, drunken old sot, promising to head to AA and deciding to go for one last hurrah down The Dog and Duck while clutching pamphlets on Cirrhosis.

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But that’s OK, because Andy is nice. Andy is for us. Andy has long eyelashes. Andy likes to dress down. Andy is cool and wants to move the Number 10 operation to Manchester, 200 odd miles away from lobbyists, journalists, civil servants and Parliament, and thus functioning and accountability. It’s a bit like a brain surgeon suggesting he practises lobotomies from his Man Cave. But the Legacy Media are lapping it up, just as they squealed with delight when the wretched Starmer stormed to power with a record majority despite nobody having a clue what he stood for and having the charisma of a rubber brick at the bottom of a local leisure centre.

The fact that, essentially, an emoji with a hashtag is now the latest manifestation of power in this country underscores how feckless and vacuous we have become. Land of Tropes and Stories.

At least Starmer didn’t think the best way to kickstart his Premiership was doing a podcast with Lugs Lineker about bloody sodding Gaza. Andy Pandy predictably opined he would put an end to the sale of bombs and bullets to Israel being used to kill kids. Bombs and bullets that, checks notes, simply do not exist. Other than the odd widget and button cover, the arms relationship between London and Tel Aviv is hugely tilted in our favour, with access to cutting edge military technology and access to unparalleled intelligence on the ever rising tide of Islamism being pumped into Europe. Never mind Shinbet and Mossad warnings we have 500 jihadi trainers in the UK at present. Better fork out for some chem labs at the Britannia Hotel so our beatified new arrivals can mix up some Ricin. Hooman Rights and all that. Maybe some homeless miscreants can also get involved as a nice little affirming activity.

It all smacks of shallow, naive, nay, infantile politics during an era where we so desperately require seriousness.

Burnham’s Lollipop Politics may taste sweet over the summer

But it will all melt away to an insipid puddle of sticky nothingness by the time the school holidays end.

For Ann

Who did what was right - not what was popular

It was Thursday evening when I heard the news. One of my former Brexit Party colleagues had passed away.

A mutual friend alerted me that I ought to brace myself for morning headlines, but wouldn’t disclose who. They had learned of the tragic death but had been asked to not make anything public before an official statement was released.

There are many unwritten protocols in journalism. Often we find things out long before other people, and it is a privilege and duty to respect boundaries set by those affected by a story. To not forget compassion and humanity. I begged to know, on promise of silence, but was politely refused by my ever decent friend.

I was heading out to dinner and couldn’t shake the information from my mind. A Brexit Party MEP was dead. That meant that this person was a friend.

When we 29 were elected to the European Parliament, marking the largest return of any party in any country, we were something quite extraordinary on top of that. A cohort of very different people from all backgrounds, ages, ideologies, all sacrificing and fighting for a shared belief. Unlike most political parties, we had genuine friendship. Not just camradery, or warm collegiate relations. No. We were a group of genuine friends. We cheered eachother on in the often otherwise empty hemicycle, convened in the MEP bar by the chamber, dined together, drank at our adopted pub, supported one another, shared ideas, staff, jokes, a vision. Even after leaving the EU, we stayed together, showing the same support to one another during Covid, exchanging ideas in our whatsapp group (which still goes strong today), meeting up when we could. When it was time to encourage everyone back to the frontline by joining Reform UK, it was not that difficult to persuade the band of unlikely friends back into battle.

I had been at a meeting called by Ben Habib at his company offices where a group of former MEPs had convened to discuss next steps. Ben wanted to set up and lead a campaign group to continue to push for Brexit. Ann had enthusiastically helped corral the troops, never far from the frontline, always ready for battle. Especially when that battle was Brrreggzit.

I made the case that we needed a political party, not a talking shop. That our country’s issues at this point were so broad and so deep we had to fight on multiple fronts in a way that the public could be given back power. That meant the ballot box. That meant Reform UK which at that point was Richard Tice and David Bull and a small handful of staff and not much else.

Ann was firmly behind the idea (a pleasing feeling, I remember, as we often waited for Ann’s forthright interjections like an Emperor’s thumbs up or down at the Gladiatorial arena). She decided it. We would all get back into the fray.

And she did. More than all of us put together, frankly. Every zoom meeting, every TV or radio interview, every event no matter how big or small in those early days, anywhere in the country. She was there. Our diminuitive little Boudica. Leading the charge.

Not Ann. Surely not Ann, I thought.

Naturally it was my suspicion, as our Elder Stateswoman.

During dinner I got a call from Nigel who confirmed what I suspected. I felt winded, my brain rushing as to how I should pay tribute when the news came out before my show tomorrow. What words to use. How to pay homage to this unique character that had been part of political life long before I knew how to tie my shoelaces.

On Friday morning, Reform UK were asked to break the news. This is significant - the accusation that the party are doing anything against ‘the family’s’ wishes is grotesque and cruel. We were her family.

Already something else murmured below the surface as tributes poured in. Something was not as it seemed. Something didn’t fit. There was no report of a medical tragedy. In fact, Ann, despite being a septuagenarian, had more energy and vim than most. She also had unerring candour. Someone would have known if she had been fighting illness. She would have lackadaisically pronounced it with a shoo of the hand and a dagger glare at anyone who looked as though they were about to emote. She was fine. She had very recently whipped up a storm on Talk. Although the producers were having trouble getting in touch, which was alarming.

Yet the circumstances in which she was found seemed inexplicable. Messages were already being exchanged doubting the scant information we had received.

Friday’s and Saturday’s shows were tough. When you have to face a camera and talk in heartfelt ways about someone you knew for three hours without breaking down, the physicality of that supprrssion cannot be understated. It manifests as a deep pain in the gullet, a constricted throat, swallowing down hard on a wave of raw emotion to force it below surface level. My throat feels in a permanent state of spasm. But it’s a physical feeling I have gotten used to.

After Saturday’s show I gave Nigel a call, checking in on how he was doing. A great deal of the responsibility of how to manage the news had been placed on his shoulders. The Chief Inspector of the police gave him updates first. He had been liaising with some of Ann’s remaining relatives and her beloved agent. He was being asked to manage the choreography - despite what graceless hacks tell you. Vile, despicable twisting of the truth.

‘How are you?’ - I asked when he answered.

‘Not good’ - a pregnant pause. An unusual thing for a man that usually speaks a handful of words before cutting a call within moments, always due to the sheer volume of things he often has to deal with.

Uh oh.

‘She’s been murdered. We all need security.’

I was sat having lunch in the sunshine with Will Kingston. All of a sudden the sunlight on the River Thames, the glass of wine in front of me, the array of food, all distorted into a howling whirlpool. I can’t remember much else, as I gripped Will’s elbow as he escorted me back to the offices of News UK where I seemed to walk in a fugue state to be among my broadcast colleagues and await a news update.

The next few hours were a blur. My phone was lit up constantly, press conferences were pushed back, producers and presenters sat either in urgent chatter or stunned silence as we waited for the official televised update.

The thing is, we knew.

Somehow, we all knew already, by gut, by instinct, by logic and rationale even. This was a politically motivated murder.

We knew because it was inevitable.

Because in our quiet moments, in our chat groups, at the pub, backstage at events, in green rooms at TV studios, we had been saying it for too long now.

We are scared. We have been scared for a long time.

It is a fear so rooted, we have learned to carry it as armour. It tastes like sanity in a boiling maelstrom of madness. It is the only real thing in this inverted, messed up world of gaslighting and truth flipping. We are hated - and we are at risk. Of that, we can be certain.

Fear they will demonise, cancel, expose, bully. Find something on you so they can put you in the public stocks and let a frenzied pile on do the rest. A post from 2006. A photo with someone deemed toxic or unacceptable. A mad confection or artificially concocted charge to spread far and wide, however untrue. The fear that tomorrow could be the day they come after you in a way that would be final.

Fear for our livelihoods. Fear we would lose basic rights such as having a bank account. Fear for the wellbeing of family and friends as we selfishly determine to continue to vocally and publicly join the chorus of Untouchables clamouring for change - despite the dire consequences. On us. On our loved ones.

Fear we will say something wrong. Fear in a second’s slip, we give them the ammunition to pile on and crucify us. How they bait and wait.

Fear someone will shove a phone in our face waiting to capture on camera the moment you lose it while someone bellows words like ‘fascist’ and ‘Nazi’ at you in front of either stunned or jeering onlookers.

Fear that we may be spat on, grabbed at, shoved, shamed.

Fear that the police will knock the door and drag us into custody for something, undisclosed to us, that someone else has maliciously reported as a ‘hate crime’.

Fear that at some point, having been called dangerous, extreme, divisive, hateful, far right and fascist by the actual Prime Minister and most of the cabinet, that someone, somewhere would wound up attacked; killed, by a caterwauling brainwashed banshee, the likes of which have taken over the streets and TV studios and social media timelines through Palestine Marches, BLM riots, climate crisis stunts. The spittle flecked standing army of purity police, radicalised, wound up and unleashed upon us by our own Government.

The constant tight fist of anxiety in the sternum. The racing heartbeat and raging brain. Even in sleep the fear reminds you of its presence. A jolt. A gasp. A sudden wave of crepuscular panic. That feeling of the throat being constricted. Swallow hard. Roll over. Try to rest.

We live in terror. We are being terrorised.

Which in my mind means that Left Wing Terror is a very real thing.

Bigger, brawnier, beastlier than anything else. It looms above all. It runs what you can say and do. It is the Sword of Damacles over the nation. It even gets to decide what the definition of terrorism is. It decides everything.

And so when consequence occurs as a result of this Stochastic Terror under which the establishment has mired all of public and private life, the scramble by the ruling class is to cut the connection. Not only refute culpability, but go to extremes to smack down, smother or silence any indication that the state has played the largest part in this, lest the machine is exposed and the people call time on tyranny.

Because that is what this now is.

But unlike other forms of terrorism, this one is state authored.

Much like Islamism, where deranged and internet-obsessed individuals are radicalised by religious propaganda until one is driven to commit a lone wolf act of barbarism, we now have as a result of hard left demonisation, a substrata in society ready to assassinate someone for their politics.

Thomas Crooks, the high school shooter who attempted to assassinate Trump. Tyler Robinson who murdered Charlie Kirk. Mentally unstable young men, probably pumped full of artificial hormones be they SRIs or gender change cocktails, being neurologically rewired in real time through reels of online dross, and finally given the green light to act upon their addled urges by the highest authorities in the land.

If the Prime Minister instructs you from behind a podium that Reform are dangerous and must be stopped, then the justification is clear. This is an existential battle for the salvation of humanity. Heads must roll. The Government has given you express permission to do what’s necessary.

Did you know that 15% of Brits think violence in politics is required?

Especially among the Activist Left. Hardly a surprise. The #BeKind brigade are the wolves in sheeps clothing.

I have written about this extensively.

Doing an audit of my Substack content I have been taken aback at how often I have researched and scribed on what I can now put a word to: Left Wing Terrorism.

In fact, it’s the most dominant theme.

From exhibiting the traits of brainwashing and personality disorder, parallels to 1930s Germany, the acceleration of the police state, time and again I have come to this platform to let it out. To try to loosen the white knuckled stranglehold in my throat. The pathologised symptom of oppression. To make sense of my fear through words.

This, from April, where I argue that Left Wing Radicalism is everywhere. And it is getting increasingly violent.

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/no-other-dangerous-ideology-would

This, from last December, where I state that the Left’s new game is demeaning and discrediting anyone who reports a crime in their open door dystopia

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/being-on-trial-for-crimes-committed

This from last October when they stripped Nigel of security

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/worrying-for-nigels-safety-isnt-snowflake?r=222ubk

This from September about the alarming number of unexplained deaths in Germany of AfD candidates

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/surely-they-arent-killing-right-wing

This, where I disclose psychological research that shows a correlation between Leftism and Narcissism.

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/our-media-class-are-narcissists

This, where I cover harrowing academic research in a shock report that found evidence of links between people who have had diversity training and a tendency towards authoritarianism

https://www.thatalexwoman.com/p/the-harrowing-overlaps-between-dei?r=222ubk

It has become abundantly clear we live in a terror state.

I am convinced, as many of you will be, that the state will be working overtime to conceal any facts about Ann’s murder that will stir the masses from their collective, terrorised somnambulism.

But it’s too late. The scales have already fallen from my eyes.

Now I face a choice.

Try to fight. Get 24hr surveillance, secure my home, double down, despite the opposing might of the machine, the David and Goliath dimension of the battle. Lose more hair, more sleep, more sanity. Lose my right to live normally, privately and peacefully. Ignore the cruel words, vile slurs, spiteful memes, lies, attacks and public admonishments from total strangers. Wake up every day to that now familiar physical pain of feeling garrotted. Lay it all down for a battle that increasingly feels unwinnable.

Or

Retreat. Delete my entire social media footprint. Stage a fake recanting, denounce my politics publicly to feel the protection of the system I long to rid the nation of. Get more money, better jobs, public forgiveness. Drink from the cup of corrupt prosperity, the left wing money fountain of reward for saying the right things. A scalp like mine would be highly treasured. The ransom would be rich. If I gave up my ideals under the media spotlight I’d fast become a darling of the legacy media. I would be on Strictly, I’d flog women’s vitamins on tube ads, I’d have a privileged and prosperous life of peace and praise. The trappings of conversion would indeed be many. I could sleep at night, forge a proper relationship, eat where I want, lap up the mawkish adoration from luvvies. Be transmogrified into a mainstream treasure. Get a cooking show. Sell some books. Get the fairytale ending.

I think you know what I have chosen.

Like Ann, I am a believer.

2 Timothy 3:12:

In a small corner of the UK, 24,927 people voted for an emoji to seal a left wing coup to seize control of the world’s 6th largest economy and home to 70 odd million people.

Th…

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Of course it’s about Restore Britain.

It is a patt…

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While social media itself does not win an election - it plays enough of a role to affect results.

And that is what Restore is - and what it is doing.

It is not there to win for itself

It is there to ensure Reform do not.

I have been appraised of leaked documents related to a Master Plan.

A plan which, for the sake of the nation, must be derailed.

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Well, none would come first in a popularity contest.

But the link is clear to anyone who wants to see it. China.

First off let’s talk Labour and Beijing.

First we had the Barry Gardiner spying furore. In 2022, MI5 issued a rare public “interference alert” naming Christine Lee (a UK-based lawyer of Chinese origin) as an agent facilitating political interference on behalf of the CCP. Lee’s firm donated over £584,000 to Gardiner’s office over several years, and he even employed her son. Gardiner also chaired a now-disbanded APPG on “Chinese in Britain” that Lee targeted. Now nobody says if you are the subject of infiltration you are complicit. But that’s a lot of cash, a lot of connection and a lot of coincidence that you are also part of a pro-China Parliamentary group. Not exactly a sinophobe…

Move forwards to present day and the astonishing situation where the UK government faced serious questions after a case against two men accused of spying for China collapsed just weeks before the trial was due to go ahead. Simply put, the Government refused to label the Chinese Communist Party as a threat to national security, and so the case collapsed. The excuse from Starmer? Legalese and process. As always.

Then we discover a new swathe of arrests had taken place and Labour MP Joani Reid is under investigation by the Labour party after her husband was arrested on suspicion of spying for China.

They just keep stacking up. Buckle up!

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Whether you are a Christian or not, the historical event of a baying mob calling for an innocent man’s death is one that coldly echoes …

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The United Kingdom is undergoing one of the fastest demographic transformations in its modern history.

Driven by high net migration, below-replacement native birth rates, and a big difference in birth rates, the country’s population composition is shifting markedly.

The foreign-born share has risen sharply, and while the UK’s overall fertility remains stubbornly low, the Muslim population with higher birth rates has grown rapidly and will continue to do so as a share of the total.

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Let’s first sink an uncomfortable truth

Full reversal to pre-2000s levels is highly unlikely, even with radical policies. But with bold political choices, I believe significant change can be affected. And when the pendulum swings in the opposite direction and momentum is maintained, the reversal of the demographic change witnessed over the past few decades could equally become exponential.

I lay out what needs to be done.

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When assembled as evidence side by side, this year’s examples make for uncomfortable reading.

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Something about the sheer in…

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Well, I did.

And the ‘rap sheet’ so-to-say, is terrifying.

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Nor democracy.

I knew they also pursued a radical Globalist, Socialist agenda.

Even still, when you glimpse the receipts of the levels of megalomaniacal depravity exhibited by the unelected EU, it still comes as a wallop to the sternum.

We are being gaslit and gagged. On an industrial scale.

When I came across the House Judiciary GOP report into Europe's radical censorship of social media, it took my breath away.

This is the same Committee that invited Graham Linehan to testify about his dramatic arrest after flying back from America.

In February 2025, The House Committee on the Judiciary subpoenaed Big Tech to understand how foreign censorship laws are hindering Americans’ free speech rights. A year later the report has landed.

It is harrowing.

Step aside Hunter Biden's laptop.

The PolitBuro in Brussels know no bounds when it comes to manipulating its public.

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You will doubtl…

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The question of how much of a threat China poses to the West has never been fully answered. But consensus among most intelligence officials suggests that Beijing isn't just an economic might to be reckoned with, but a growing military power forming an axis with hostile states, that not only bends the rules but breaks them with impunity and happily conducts predatory or parasitic industrial relations with nations, that corrode prosperity and weakens society from the inside out.

If anything should have woken up the world to China's capacity for malevolence and deceit, Covid was that moment. At the very least China lied about its origins and thus cost the world critical time in figuring out how to handle the pandemic. At the very worst, it was all done with intent. The fact that we cannot say for sure typefies the disturbingly enigmatic role China plays on the world stage, particularly in the context of its might and potential.

The proposition that Beijing doesn’t play fair is flagrantly apparent. I first became alive to China's cancerous presence while working in Ghana, just after living in Shanghai. The depths to which China was wilfully undercutting a third world country in its own backyard, destroying its domestic market while robbing it of resource riches, was startling to me twenty years ago. It staggers me that successive British governments continue to play with fire.

Under Prime Minister Keir Starmer's Labour government, the UK's relationship with China has veered into perilous territory.

What Starmer touts as "pragmatic engagement" increasingly resembles appeasement, prioritizing short-term economic gains over long-term national security and democratic values. The big question is - Is Starmer China's stooge?

I lay bare the true extent of Labour's Chinese fixation. And how dangerous this could be.

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Yet he has also found he is alone.

While America pumps money into defense and Trump has taken the world's temperature and found it febrile, Europe continues to not only self-harm through geopolitical naivety, Net Zero stupidity and open border idiocy, but have become deeply unreliable allies.

The stories of Greenland and the proposed Chinese Mega Embassy are inseparable. How can America trust a Europe that increasingly rolls out the red carpet for its enemies? That is at the heart of the Trump's new found aggression.

His renewed push to acquire Greenland from Denmark stands as a testament to his strategic foresight and unyielding commitment to security. As the Arctic region becomes a hotbed of geopolitical rivalry, Trump's insistence on bringing the world's largest island under U.S. control is not just ambitious—it's essential.

With adversaries like Russia and China eyeing the Arctic's riches and strategic advantages, Trump's vision emerges as ambitious and uncompromising decisiveness to protect freedom and prosperity.

This article takes you through all the rational reasons why Trump's bluster makes sense. And why Europe's intransigence is the thing upping the ante.

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