Top Tweets for #Restoreuk

Somewhere on the Gold Coast, 1:17am. Phone face-down on the doona. The fan ticking. A mozzie dying against the screen. And a bloke who has not put the phone down in three hours. He was not looking for the fall. The fall found him. One clip. Then another. Then the comments under the comments. A street that used to be a street. A school assembly that does not look like the one he stood in. A cop reading a script. A minister smiling through a number that used to be a country. Replacement, they call it, when they are being honest in a language that is not English. Managed decline, when they are being paid. Diversity, when they want you to clap. He scrolls. He scrolls like a man checking a wound to see if it has stopped bleeding. It has not. London. Paris. Malmö. Melbourne. The same film, different subtitles. A woman on a tram who will not make eye contact. A flag taken down for the crime of being there first. A poll that says the young have already left the room in their heads. He knows the blackpill by its handwriting. It does not shout. It shrugs. It says: too late, mate. Numbers don't lie. Birth rates don't negotiate. The institutions are captured. The media is a lullaby. Go to sleep. He has read that shrug a thousand times. Tonight he does not swallow it. Because under the same feed, something else is moving. Not a saviour. Not a speech. A refusal. A farmer in the Netherlands who will not sell the farm to a target. A French village that put the same name on the ballot until the name won. An English account that stopped apologising for the word English. An American who got told the border was a mood and answered with a wall and a vote. A Japanese timeline that does not pretend the word homogeneous is a slur. And here, in the comments under a clip from Bankstown, an Aussie who types the quiet part in plain text and does not delete it. Patriots. Not the costume kind. The tired kind. The ones who still pay tax, still coach the under-10s, still know the words to the anthem without needing a prompt, and have decided the apology tour is over. He sits up. The blackpill wants a corpse. It wants him horizontal, ironic, posting nothing but forecasts of ruin so he can be right when the ruin arrives. Right, and useless. A spectator at his own funeral, taking notes. He looks at the screen. He thinks of every bloke who blackpilled in 2016 and missed the decade that followed. Every doomer who called Brexit a cope, then called Trump a cope, then called Meloni a cope, then called the Dutch a cope, then called the copy-paste victories across Europe a rounding error. The cope kept winning. The doomer kept scrolling. Not on his watch. NOT ON HIS WATCH. He opens the app like a man opening a rifle case he is legally allowed to own. No manifesto. No ten-point plan. A shitpost. A meme. A caption that makes a normie laugh before the normie realises he has agreed with it. Meme magick is not crystals. It is repetition with teeth. Say the true thing until the lie has to spend money answering it. Say it ugly. Say it funny. Say it again tomorrow. The globalists have the ministries, the universities, the ad agencies, the NGOs with the soft names. Fine. They can keep the carpet. He has the comments. Day after day he watches the pushback stop being a mood and start being a tally. One Nation, written off so many times the write-offs became a genre, still on the ballot, still saying the sentence the majors will only whisper in a car park. Restore UK, standing up in a country that was told it had already been resolved. AfD. National Rally. The brothers in Italy. The farmers. The Finns. The copy that keeps appearing because the original grievance was never fixed, only rebranded. Different flags. Same sentence. We were here. This is ours. We are not sorry. He does not need them to be pure. He needs them to be present. .

By rights I should have retired at 60 last year, but like many, I'm having to work til I'm 67. Now the government are going to take everything I've worked for and give it to those who can't be bothered to work, and those invading t he UK for a free life.I detest this Labour govt. and every bastard that voted them in!