Gutless

History is always looking for heroes but what it seeks and what it gets are often worlds apart. When Nigel Farage took the aimless and disjointed UK Independence Party from its fruitcake and closet racist characterisation to become a serious challenger to the cosy LabCon cartel, he donned the cloak and took up the sword. His no-nonsense, man-of-the-people schtick rallied hundreds of thousands and forced the referendum. Make no mistake, Ukip gave us the EU referendum and earned for Farage a brief flicker of heroic flame.

But where did he go? My generous side is still inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt; that the relentless negative media, the Farage-bashing by the established politicians, the opprobrium of the chattering classes, drove him to exhaustion. I am even prepared to believe, to a point, that he felt he had built up a movement but had seen his portrayal as holding the party back and was honourably stepping down to allow fresh blood to take the stage. I’ll give him all that... except.

The referendum result, the rise of Ukip, the standing up of patriotic people to superimposed governance everywhere, has been described in the establishment press as a racist reaction to immigration. That simplistic label is both insulting and craven. Most British people are quite happy to see Pepe, Giuseppe and Krystyna bustling away with their continental verve; keeping the wheels of industry and commerce turning merrily away; contributing to society as a whole and generally fitting in pretty well.

We are comfortable that Piotr, Lukasz and Ugne are picking fruit and packing peas, just so long as our own kids are getting a look-in. To see whole sections of formerly traditionally British towns become East European backwaters was something of a shock, a decade or so ago, but even this was manageable; European immigration was never the worst problem. Even membership of a trading bloc was not an issue. What was important, the thing which really fuelled the Brexit vote, was the feeling of powerlessness against a state which had bought into something far worse.

Standing up to the EU at times had the churlish appearance of a teenager standing up to parents who ultimately wanted the best. So, you want to make your own rules? Which of our rules do you find so bad; which would you change? All governments in the west are simply shades of socialism, which in this wider form is hardly harmful and brings undeniable benefits. But this desire to be inclusive, non-judgmental and egalitarian harbours harmful hypocrisies, not least the acceptance of an ideology which will never align with our values.

So when Anne Marie Waters’ bid for the Ukip leadership was thwarted by Nigel Farage’s championing of the insipid and ultimately useless Henry Bolton his mask slipped. Happy to garner the acclaim for bringing about the referendum result; happy to bask in the plaudits for his audacious stand-ups in the European Parliament, he balked when confronted with a real issue which simply has to be confronted head-on. Was he got at? Was he paid off? Why is Nigel Farage afraid of tackling the elephant that is islam?

You want it blunt? Let’s not call it islamism, or islamic terrorism, or islamic fundamentalism; let’s be straight and call it what it is; islam. And this is what Anne Marie dared to do; to name the beast and stand against it for which she has been vilified, targeted and framed as some sort of Nazi. In her own words, Anne Marie Waters is a former Labour member who grew up. And stood up and went on to found a movement which unashamedly says what nobody else in public life has really dared to say. Oh, except for Tommy Robinson, peace be upon him.

You want heroes? Right there; Tommy and Anne Marie stand out, towering above the gutless appeasement of the established powers. Those charged with our protection are instead protecting those who would harm us. Those we should turn to have turned away. The defenders of our freedoms and way of life are not the entitled ruling classes, not the police, the law, Parliament, but those who should better know their place and get back into their stinking hovels and kow and tow and tug their forelocks.

When the leaders don’t lead, when the concerns of the population go disregarded, when the people learn they can rely only on themselves, that is how revolutions begin. When the soft-handed incumbents of safe seats, sit in silence and refuse to listen, it is we - the rough people, the low people, the unsophisticated who are sick to death of lofty moralising and empty words – it is ourselves to whom we turn. Every parliamentarian who has dared to defy their voters should be quaking in their boots; change is coming; it can’t come too soon.