possiblyunhinged

[possiblyunhinged]

Another day of wishing my special interest was bus routes or tracking planes, and not crippling justice sensitivity lmfaooooooo. Can’t wait to sob over the next clip of Gabor Mate explaining why women are so overrepresented in autoimmune conditions hehe

[possiblyunhinged]

Just burst a blood vessel watching a Tory MP brandish himself an “activist” while blaming Labour for the grooming gang scandal—citing the Jay Report, no less. Which, by the way, was commissioned, published, and occurred under Tory rule... :)

Just another reminder that the violence women experience at the hands of men is only ever of interest to them when it can be used as a political football. But mention rape reforms, rape culture, or the gender pay gap? Suddenly they’re physically restraining their eyeballs from rolling into the backs of their skulls.

…True feminists.

Now, for the slow men who linger online on every post about male violence:

If you’re arguing that migrants are overrepresented in some crimes—but refuse to acknowledge that men are overrepresented in nearly every crime, especially sexual violence—then you’re not sitting with truth. You’re strategically avoiding it.

In 2023, there were 68,387 rapes recorded in England and Wales. Yet only 3,717 cases were charged, and 2,158 convictions were secured. In other words: rape victims report, and the system fails them (CPS, ONS).

But sure, let’s make this centuries-long issue about Labour’s “failures,” while rape conviction rates sit comfortably in the single digits across all governments.

And let’s get something else straight: the grooming gang narrative you're so excited about? The one you recycle every time someone tries to talk about actual rape reform?

2023 Home Office data shows that among grooming gang suspects with recorded ethnicity: 70% were white, and just under 7% Pakistani. 2024 stats show 13.7% Pakistani and 63% white. The victims? 85% were white girls, mostly working-class, and overwhelmingly ignored because they were seen as “problem children.” (Home Office)

And I can't scream this enough: many of the girls exploited in grooming gang cases were already known to social services, care homes, or the police.

So the idea that this issue is only about race is not just reductive—it’s manipulative. You’re accusing women of being disinterested in violence we all spend our lives navigating—whether consciously or not. It's fucking ignorant, and frankly very telling of both your comprehension and your observational skills, that you think asking people to talk about this in a way that doesn’t reduce accountability down to migration—just because you want to feel virtuous instead of unbearably lonely and irrelevant—is some kind of silencing.

It’s fucking obvious.

And if you actually gave a shit about protecting women—not just using us to prop up your nationalism—you’d be just as furious about rape convictions, street harassment, abuse in the home, and the fact that women are dying at the hands of men every three days in the UK. But funny how that part doesn’t fire you up unless there’s a brown face attached.

You're not framing it as a deep, unsettled epiphany about the extent male violence has on a women's experience from literal childhood, you're framing it as a migrant issue. You’re framing it as a national emergency—as if migrants are “raping your women” and you’re here to protect us. But who’s protecting us from you? Because it’s not the fucking police.

If anything, that’s the fundamental takeaway from the Jay Report: that the police are rotten from the inside out, poisoned by misogyny and classism. They looked at vulnerable, working-class girls being raped and thought: not worth the agg.

As for child sexual abuse: 1 in 20 children in the UK are sexually abused. Girls and older children are more likely to be targeted. One major study found 21% of girls vs 16% of boys reported experiencing CSA. In grooming gang cases, it’s starker: 78% of victims are girls. (NSPCC, CSA Centre, NHS, Home Office)

But yes, go off about “women making everything about gender.”

I never had the luxury of not giving a shit about male violence. I was first groped before I even hit puberty. I was sexually assaulted by the time I was 19. And the more I “failed” at being what a woman is supposed to be—a quiet, accommodating secret-keeper for men—the more I heard other women open up.

My best friends. My Nan. Women I barely knew, or didn’t even like, who saw me have a meltdown on Facebook years ago and messaged with stories they hadn’t told anyone. Because they were scared. Or embarrassed. Or both.

You’ll struggle to find a single woman who hasn’t shaped her life around the threat of male violence—whether it’s the man down the alleyway or the man in her bed.

If it unsettles you that this affects how women trust you—or makes us cross the road to avoid you—and your first instinct is to blame us?

Stop pretending you care.

I’m fucking exhausted of people pretending to give a shit—until the moment they feel personally attacked or implicated in the cultural rot. Then they run. Because they lack the integrity to sit with it.

Women are exhausted. Young girls are growing up with Andrew Tate-level rot infecting their classrooms—teacher unions are flagging a disturbing rise in misogyny. Incels and self-styled “nice guys” aren’t lurking anymore—they’re right here, nipping at the ankles of men, screaming inflammatory shit in hopes of a dreg of male validation.

And what I think is the most obvious learning moment for women right now?

We’re all realising that our silence hasn’t made us safer. And I imagine that’s quite fucking terrifying for the men who’ve always relied on us to hold their secrets. Who’ve treated us like shock absorbers for their failings. Who’ve banked on us keeping quiet because we were scared, or tired, or unsure.

That silence is cracking.

And frankly, if I’m forced to live in a misogynistic world where World War Three is one fragile male ego away from going nuclear, why the fuck should I—or any other woman—be meek about our own oppression?

Fuck off.

[possiblyunhinged]

Guys did you hear the cure to bigotry is imperialism and genocide

[possiblyunhinged]

Honestly, watching low-IQ men discover the words “strawman” and “whataboutism” and then apply them with all the accuracy you’d expect of said low-IQ men… it’s just boring now, tbh. Trot along, boys. The eye rolls and sighs won’t induce themselves.

But just for future reference, baby bois: calling something a logical fallacy only works if the premise is wrong. The post lays out two very real, observable dynamics: a) That outrage over rape is selective, igniting only when the accused is an immigrant, and b) That many disenfranchised, working-class men are channeling their rage at migrants for crimes that men in their own culture commit constantly—without ever holding themselves or their peers accountable.

I know you all sit around jerking each other off in comment sections because you don’t speak to real human beings or leave your mummy’s basement, but I’d suggest you go and spin on it.

And once again—stick to what you’re good at, boys: grossing out the entire female population x

Dear the Sad Little Boys in Ballymena,

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. And then—oh yes—fuck you again.

A young girl was attacked by two men. And what did the local “men” do? Did you grieve? Show up for her? No. You threw bricks. You set fires.

You’re so fucking fragile that a single social media post alluding to Romanian families seeking safety sent you running to Larne to burn down a leisure centre. And the fucking dweebs who helped circulate that post—thinking they’re blameless because they didn’t strike the match themselves—you may as well have. You stoke the fires that burn down our communities, then act shocked when the smoke chokes you too. In the end, your loneliness wasn’t proof of a world gone mad. It was a you problem—one you tried to reframe as justice, and in doing so, destroyed our homes.

How pathetic do you have to be that even your racism reeks of misogyny? You’re not defending women—you’re just clawing for a socially acceptable excuse to hurt someone. Your performance of masculinity is so hollow it echoes. It curls the toes with pity and triggers an almost primal urge to look away. It’s desperation dressed up as something harder, something righteous—when really, it’s just… pathetic.

There are already enough horrors against women in Ballymena. But those stories didn’t suit your narrative. No bogeyman to blame. No permission to play soldier. You talk big about protecting your country—but how many of you have actually signed up for the military? Oh right—forgot. You want the aesthetic of sacrifice, not the reality.

And it tracks. Whether it was the Suffragettes, Stonewall, or the Miners’ Strikes, people knew the risk of showing solidarity. They knew they could be beaten, arrested, or worse—just for standing together. But you lot? You cry like fucking babies the second someone holds you accountable. Because you’ve never thought about liberation. Never thought about struggle. Never thought about anything beyond your own ego. Got it, babe.

So, let’s talk about your hot takes. I’ll humour them—for the sake of working through what happens when boys are too lazy to think and too cowardly to feel.

"You can’t stop these crimes”—correction, you just don’t want to. You protect the rot. You laugh at the jokes. You excuse the creeps. You turn predators into lads and silence into loyalty. When a man does care, you mock him—accuse him of being after sex. That’s how limited your worldview is. You can’t fathom men respecting women unless there’s something in it for them.

“Oh, we don’t want to import the issue”—right. So shall we ban white British men from Ibiza, Barcelona, anywhere your idea of culture is smashing pint glasses and pissing in fountains? You’ve become global shorthand for danger. But you still think your violence is cleaner because it’s local. You dress it in patriotism. It’s still cowardice.

“Men get attacked too”—by who? Say it. Women walk like prey animals—gripping keys, tracking exits, rehearsing last words. We can’t carry protection. We can’t scream without being blamed. There’s a femicide epidemic, and you’re upset we don’t feel sorry enough for your fragile egos?

“You’re protecting sexual predators”—funny. White men have been protecting them for decades. “He didn’t seem the type.” “Don’t ruin his life.” From Ronaldo to Fassbender to Shia LaBeouf—you twist rape into a moral blemish instead of calling it what it is. Women lose careers and friends for daring to speak the truth about what is done to them. Men are forever redeemable.

“Bad women exist”—and when they are bad, we destroy them. Amber Heard lost her livelihood. Marilyn Manson’s still selling records. Johnny Depp got a standing ovation while she got death threats. When women abuse, they disappear. When men abuse, they tour.

“But they weren’t convicted”—and yet, you trust a justice system that fails over 98% of rape victims? You don’t want reform. You want women to shut up. If you’re not demanding better conviction rates, stop pretending “innocent until proven guilty” is some noble stance. It’s just your favourite excuse.

“Facts not feelings”—you wouldn’t know a fact if it headbutted you in a pub toilet. Tommy Robinson spews half-baked stats and you treat it like gospel. But mention the Jay Report’s police negligence—how they dismissed victims as “problem girls”—and you fall silent. You don’t want facts. You want a permission slip to be violent.

If you’re sick of hopelessness—if you’re desperate to feel seen—why not use it for good? You say you care about community, but your only act of unity is hate. You want to feel big, but all you do is punch down. And the people ruining your life—the landlords, the Eton boys, the private equity ghouls—they go untouched. Not because you don’t know, but because you’re a featherweight. So you swing at the weight below and pretend you’re a man.

You’re not brave. You’re boring. You snap around the ankles of fascist men like toddlers begging for affection. You take up space with hate because you’re too cowardly to look inward. You cry about men’s mental health—and then, at the first opportunity, you torch our communities. Good one, you fucking idiots. 👍

If you want to feel powerful? Try thinking. Try empathy. Try shutting the fuck up and not making the world worse just because you’re scared and unimaginative. Until then, stop calling it justice. Stop calling it protest. And stop pretending it’s about protecting women.

Can’t be arsed? Removing fascist ideology takes the fun out of it? Try, I don’t know—shutting the fuck up.

You could deport every immigrant tomorrow, and your life would still be the same. Because they were never the problem.

[possiblyunhinged]

Dear the Sad Little Boys in Ballymena,

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. And then—oh yes—fuck you again.

A young girl was attacked by two men. And what did the local “men” do? Did you grieve? Show up for her? No. You threw bricks. You set fires.

You’re so fucking fragile that a single social media post alluding to Romanian families seeking safety sent you running to Larne to burn down a leisure centre. And the fucking dweebs who helped circulate that post—thinking they’re blameless because they didn’t strike the match themselves—you may as well have. You stoke the fires that burn down our communities, then act shocked when the smoke chokes you too. In the end, your loneliness wasn’t proof of a world gone mad. It was a you problem—one you tried to reframe as justice, and in doing so, destroyed our homes.

How pathetic do you have to be that even your racism reeks of misogyny? You’re not defending women—you’re just clawing for a socially acceptable excuse to hurt someone. Your performance of masculinity is so hollow it echoes. It curls the toes with pity and triggers an almost primal urge to look away. It’s desperation dressed up as something harder, something righteous—when really, it’s just… pathetic.

There are already enough horrors against women in Ballymena. But those stories didn’t suit your narrative. No bogeyman to blame. No permission to play soldier. You talk big about protecting your country—but how many of you have actually signed up for the military? Oh right—forgot. You want the aesthetic of sacrifice, not the reality.

And it tracks. Whether it was the Suffragettes, Stonewall, or the Miners’ Strikes, people knew the risk of showing solidarity. They knew they could be beaten, arrested, or worse—just for standing together. But you lot? You cry like fucking babies the second someone holds you accountable. Because you’ve never thought about liberation. Never thought about struggle. Never thought about anything beyond your own ego. Got it, babe.

So, let’s talk about your hot takes. I’ll humour them—for the sake of working through what happens when boys are too lazy to think and too cowardly to feel.

"You can’t stop these crimes”—correction, you just don’t want to. You protect the rot. You laugh at the jokes. You excuse the creeps. You turn predators into lads and silence into loyalty. When a man does care, you mock him—accuse him of being after sex. That’s how limited your worldview is. You can’t fathom men respecting women unless there’s something in it for them.

“Oh, we don’t want to import the issue”—right. So shall we ban white British men from Ibiza, Barcelona, anywhere your idea of culture is smashing pint glasses and pissing in fountains? You’ve become global shorthand for danger. But you still think your violence is cleaner because it’s local. You dress it in patriotism. It’s still cowardice.

“Men get attacked too”—by who? Say it. Women walk like prey animals—gripping keys, tracking exits, rehearsing last words. We can’t carry protection. We can’t scream without being blamed. There’s a femicide epidemic, and you’re upset we don’t feel sorry enough for your fragile egos?

“You’re protecting sexual predators”—funny. White men have been protecting them for decades. “He didn’t seem the type.” “Don’t ruin his life.” From Ronaldo to Fassbender to Shia LaBeouf—you twist rape into a moral blemish instead of calling it what it is. Women lose careers and friends for daring to speak the truth about what is done to them. Men are forever redeemable.

“Bad women exist”—and when they are bad, we destroy them. Amber Heard lost her livelihood. Marilyn Manson’s still selling records. Johnny Depp got a standing ovation while she got death threats. When women abuse, they disappear. When men abuse, they tour.

“But they weren’t convicted”—and yet, you trust a justice system that fails over 98% of rape victims? You don’t want reform. You want women to shut up. If you’re not demanding better conviction rates, stop pretending “innocent until proven guilty” is some noble stance. It’s just your favourite excuse.

“Facts not feelings”—you wouldn’t know a fact if it headbutted you in a pub toilet. Tommy Robinson spews half-baked stats and you treat it like gospel. But mention the Jay Report’s police negligence—how they dismissed victims as “problem girls”—and you fall silent. You don’t want facts. You want a permission slip to be violent.

If you’re sick of hopelessness—if you’re desperate to feel seen—why not use it for good? You say you care about community, but your only act of unity is hate. You want to feel big, but all you do is punch down. And the people ruining your life—the landlords, the Eton boys, the private equity ghouls—they go untouched. Not because you don’t know, but because you’re a featherweight. So you swing at the weight below and pretend you’re a man.

You’re not brave. You’re boring. You snap around the ankles of fascist men like toddlers begging for affection. You take up space with hate because you’re too cowardly to look inward. You cry about men’s mental health—and then, at the first opportunity, you torch our communities. Good one, you fucking idiots. 👍

If you want to feel powerful? Try thinking. Try empathy. Try shutting the fuck up and not making the world worse just because you’re scared and unimaginative. Until then, stop calling it justice. Stop calling it protest. And stop pretending it’s about protecting women.

Can’t be arsed? Removing fascist ideology takes the fun out of it? Try, I don’t know—shutting the fuck up.

You could deport every immigrant tomorrow, and your life would still be the same. Because they were never the problem.

[possiblyunhinged]

I just listened to an interview with a booker from Download before ending up deep in the rabbit hole about that trans inclusivity + toilets email. And my prevailing thought is: what a fucking weird thing to do—especially if they weren’t pressured to clarify their stance.

Then to hear that some people working at Download weren’t even aware of the email, followed by a shoddily released statement about how the festival is “inclusive”—I just have to ask: inclusive to who? Goblins who like chainmail? 

I mean, I grew up seeing Download as the festival where my favourite bands would get billed—and then get bottled. Inclusivity and diversity don’t exactly spring to mind. Also, I think there’s a very real element where the anti-authoritarianism in metal has metastasised into anti-woke ideology wielded by people who think goblins are sick. Which, you know—variety is the spice of life.

But if you’re going to claim inclusivity while simultaneously booking Pantera in 2024—fascist Mr Tumnus Anselmo plopped on stage like nothing happened—or Eagles of Death Metal in 2025, fronted by Jesse Hughes… it becomes very difficult to believe you mean it. Even in a field in Donington, you’re still exposed to right-wing conspiracy theorists… As if Islamophobia isn’t already endemic—let’s outsource it for the vibe! Woo!

And I think people assume that the issue people like me have is that these men are going to get on stage, start preaching, and then pop off to throw a brick at a library in crowds. No. It’s the messaging. It’s the dissonance of saying, “We’re inclusive,” and then booking artists who are the antithesis of that. It signals, very loudly, that maybe, just maybe, you’re talking out of your fucking arses.

When Download talks about inclusivity, why doesn’t it ever seem to extend to Muslims? Or people of colour? Or, you know, not platforming misogynists year in, year out? I mean, it’d be nice if misogyny were just a silly little joke now and then—not a culture that results in women being murdered, assaulted, and harassed.

If you want to see diversity in line-ups—more women, more artists of colour—and give them access to the same fucking joy of creating music, it starts with the audience. It starts with who’s in the crowd, staring up at someone they can actually imagine being. And with the decimation of independent venues, festivals now have an even greater responsibility to do that, at least in my view.

It’s like hosting a street party, saying “everyone’s welcome,” and then booking Tommy Robinson to DJ—but reassuring us he won’t talk about Islam because he’s doing a Robbie Williams medley. Just ignore the baldies in Stone Island over there, hey? Like… seriously?

Either your event is inclusive and you’re actively working to root out the cultural rot that keeps marginalised people from live music, or—shut the fuck up and stop pretending.

I studied Music Business (real degree, stfu). I wanted to work in music my whole life. Sincerity makes me want to puke at this point, but I had a desperately earnest view of what music could be—what it could do. Obviously, it was ruined by men. But, y’know… the thought was there.

I was two months into my course, just embedding myself in the live scene, when I was sexually assaulted by a man in the industry. I got the “traditional experience” real fast. Then, the more women I met, the more I was like—holy shit, I didn’t realise the music industry meant crèche for sex pests. The offers I got from local promoters—to shadow them, get work experience, do some paid door shifts—I naively thought it was because they saw I was passionate about live music. More often than not, it turned into them making advances. I also have the face and energy of a Chuckle Brother, so don’t start with the victim-blaming, danke.

What should’ve been a slow ascent into reaching my dreams of insufferably pushing for bands to be heard, turned into a slow rot into a meltdown that left me abandoning that dream altogether. I moved home. I finished my degree long-distance. I felt like a shell of the person I used to be.

And still now, my nervous system is fucked—and this is a topic I can’t disengage from, because I’m fucking horrified at how difficult people in creative industries find it to explicitly lay out, through brand image and platforming choices, that racism, misogyny, and Islamophobia are not only not going to be platformed—they’re not welcome in the crowds.

And maybe, just maybe, the little fascists and sex pests you lose will be replaced by people who should’ve never felt excluded in the first place… Just an idea, pet. Those audiences exist—you’ve just failed to invite them in.

So yeah, I have a particular view when companies like Download make statements about inclusivity. I think they need to be held to their word—not so it’s just another round of public image management, but so it’s backed by people who genuinely want change.

And so that the people who do work there—who believe in making things better—aren’t thrown off rails or forced to absorb the backlash from a single internal decision that sends a message completely at odds with the so-called values of the organisation.

Live music should be about creating the safest space possible—where people can fall in love with sound and find their people without worrying about a crusty middle-aged man throwing up a white power salute three acts over. It should be a space where someone who doesn’t fit the “majority” knows they’re protected and welcome—not just tolerated.

Yes, I see the attempts to diversify the lineup. But it means fuck all when your biggest bookings include Five Finger Death Punch (scheduled for 2023 before pulling out), Eagles of Death Metal, and fucking Pantera.

What message does that send to people who already struggle to feel comfortable in these spaces? What does it say to Muslims that a conspiracy theorist who once blamed them for a mass killing is being paid to perform at a festival they might attend to escape the exhaustion of being seen as “other” for one fucking moment? Like… what?

As the world gets tougher, people need places like this—events where they can feel safe to be themselves. I just wish more bookers, managers, labels, promoters, artists gave a shit about that as much as they care about self-preservation.

[possiblyunhinged]

Funny how the class war is only ‘indefensible’ when affluent people feel attacked—not when over two million kids in the UK live in poverty. Families can’t afford food or rent, but god forbid someone imply that going to private school and not having trauma from poverty might make life, idk, easier hehe x

[possiblyunhinged]

If you think a criticism of consumerism and influencer culture equates to 'everything is bad, finding joy for one second is bad, we should all just end ourselves,' then I don’t know what to tell you, bud.

Good reason not to end it: friends, pubs, nature, family etc etc... I mean, it’s a hefty list.

I'm sorry but this Labubu shit is insane. We went from pretending to care about the environment to full-blown consumerist hysteria via TikTok—people queuing round the block for plastic tat they’ll forget about in six months. Straight to landfill. Incredible stuff.

And the worst bit? It’s giving pick me apocalypse. Like—look at my quirky little gremlin bunny dangling off my £2,000 handbag. I’m not like other girls, I’m financially irresponsible and spiritually bankrupt. The brain rot is truly Olympic-level at this point.

Honestly, our generation needs to give its collective head a wobble. When are we going to have a real conversation about how influencers are just pipeline-to-landfill machines with a collagen discount code? There is no way you can argue they’re a net good. We’re being sold back our own insecurities in packaging made from delusion.

Here—have some body image issues, a fast fashion haul made by the hands of exploited workers, and a cocktail of microplastics disguised as a wellness routine. But don’t worry, I’m transparent about the Botox, so it’s empowering actually. And if you dare question it? Apparently you're anti-feminist—because feminism now means centering yourself, girlbossing, and yaaasifying your way to wealth... while a global femicide quietly ticks on in the background.

Duh.

Whatever you do, don’t look at the climate data. Don’t think about how fascism, consumerism, and misogyny have formed a polycule. Just slap that haunted bunny to your handbag, switch on the ring light, and let’s march into the end of the world together in matching y2k clothes made from polyester hehe xx

[possiblyunhinged]

It’s me, the broken record—frustrated at the middle class again. Here’s the deal: for years now, people who thought a degree gave them a free pass on classism have been talking down to white working-class Brits, telling them they’re privileged, telling them they have no culture, even mocking the idea that they ever did. Now you’re seeing the same people try to walk it back, adding a belated asterisk—we meant racial privilege, obviously!—but for many, the damage has already been done. That correction came too late. That nuance was never offered to the communities who were mocked, patronised, or outright dismissed.

And honestly, as an autistic person, it’s one of the rare occasions where I’ve watched a group of people with just as little self-awareness completely fail to read the fucking room. You can feel the collective wince—my brain recoils every time they speak, watching their carefully curated, self-congratulatory messaging land like a slap in the face to the very people they claim to be reaching. And still, no matter how ineffective it is, they keep going. Keep irritating. Keep making the left look like a delusional vanity project for people who think shopping at Aldi during uni qualifies as a working-class experience. Great job, guys.

And yet again, here I am—just another aggrieved leftie. But what I keep circling back to is this: if middle-class people have grievances with working-class voters, they get a Guardian column and a comments section full of people agreeing it’s “complex.” But when working-class people express their own grievances—about change, about chaos, about being left behind—it’s treated like a moral failing. It’s always viewed through a lens of suspicion. There’s sympathy, sure—but only for the version of you that sounds like them.

What drives me mad is that so few people—beyond those who rightly point out how wealth disparity feeds this mess—seem to genuinely want to listen. It’s all diagnosis, no empathy. There’s a constant assumption that working-class fear about the future is either stupidity or bigotry in disguise. And yes, sometimes that fear curdles into rage, and sometimes that rage turns into resentment or anti-immigrant sentiment—but if you can’t acknowledge the pain people are in without belittling them, why would they ever listen to you? Working-class people have been sneered at in this country for centuries. So what makes you think it reads any differently now? How does that feel like progress?

I’m fucking terrified about the next election. I’m watching the support for Reform climb, and I can’t pretend I don’t understand why—because I have Facebook, and it’s a split-screen: half middle-class arts grads posting infographics, and half the people I grew up with reposting decontextualised crime stats and “what’s happened to this country” memes. It’s laughable to me that so many of the politically ‘informed’ don’t seem to get that the reason a lot of Reform voters don’t see themselves as racist is because they’re clinging to a version of Britain that once felt stable to them—when you could afford an annual holiday, when life wasn’t just endless admin and decline. Their politics aren’t born of hatred—they’re born of exhaustion. Of disorientation. Of being constantly made to feel irrelevant, stupid, or surplus.

But here’s the thing: it is literally the job of the left to correct course—not to play cheap populist games like Starmer’s lot, but to actually stop and look in the fucking mirror. It’s not going to be solved by yelling “racist” at people whose lives are disintegrating. It’s not going to be solved by shaming people for how they process fear, instability, or the slow erosion of hope. Funny how, after all this time, the most radical move still seems to be actually listening to the people you say you represent... God forbid.

What I’m scared of is this: middle-class people keep jumping on TikTok, Instagram, the odd Channel 4 doc, talking about “important conversations”—while dismissing every fear the working class has as irrational. Meanwhile, people are watching their lives crumble. And no, “it’s the rich” isn’t going to cut it anymore—not when it’s delivered like a fucking marketing brief. And here’s the thing: people are scared. Really scared. And that fear is being seized—by the wrong people, sure, with all the wrong diagnoses—but at least they’re saying something that makes people feel seen. Meanwhile, the left stumbles over its words. So much of the rhetoric feels deeply disingenuous, because the moment middle-class anger flares up, the mask drops—and there’s the classism again: “they can barely speak English,” “what culture,” rah rah rah. Same shit, different font.

So yeah—Greens organising? When I first saw it, I was genuinely excited. But even scratching the surface, it just doesn’t feel like enough to reach the itch people are actually feeling—especially when the other lot are screaming in the corner, pretending they’re the only ones “fighting” for working-class folk. A moodily graded Instagram video isn’t going to change anything, frankly. And unless these movements are truly guided by working-class people, for working-class people, I struggle to see how we’re not spiralling further into hell.

Either we untangle the mess and reckon with the errors of the left, or we keep screaming over each other until there’s nothing left to fight for. And at this point? I think I just need the noise-cancelling headphones. Because it’s not looking great, lads.

[possiblyunhinged]

"because accepting they’re just puppets of the culture war performing morality in a theatre with no exit is too difficult to digest"

[possiblyunhinged]

I’m not bitter about the Trent thing ok... But I will be forever hissing at anyone who even breathes the words Real Madrid in my vicinity... aka the Kardashians of football...

I TOLD YOU I’M NOT BITTER OK.