We are heading into a very dark place under Sir Keir Starmer. All roads seem to lead back to the same worldview, the technocratic politics of global boards and elite networks, the kind of thinking that thrives in places like the Trilateral Commission. Less democracy. Less public say. More power concentrated in the hands of those who already have it. And now we are seeing it play out inside Labour itself. Labour MP Karl Turner has revealed that he was threatened with suspension after disagreeing with his own party’s stance on restricting jury trials. For daring to defend one of the oldest democratic protections in British law, the right to be judged by a jury of your peers. Turner didn’t hide his frustration. He said: “I’m so cheesed off, I could say: ‘I’ve had enough and I’m off.’” Think about that for a moment. An elected MP, representing his constituents, warned not to dissent from the party line on a question that strikes at the heart of British justice. If MPs themselves are being threatened with punishment for defending fundamental liberties, what hope is there for the rest of us? This is how democracy begins to narrow. Not with tanks in the streets, but with discipline notices, internal threats, and the quiet removal of voices that refuse to fall into line. Less debate. Less dissent. Less democracy. And far more power for those already sitting at the top of the table. The real kicker is this: Starmer’s creeping authoritarianism is beginning to chip away at our liberties. From the erosion of trial by jury to growing pressure on what people are permitted to say, the direction of travel is unmistakable. This is a dark road we are treading. And once a government grows comfortable removing the freedoms of its own people, the journey rarely ends well. Keep calling this government out. Some truths are so fundamental they survive every generation, at least for as long as we are still free to repeat them. As Benjamin Franklin warned: “Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.” And as George Orwell later reminded us: “If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” Two centuries apart, yet both pointing to the same simple truth. A free society depends on the courage to defend liberty and free speech, especially when those in power would prefer silence. Paul Knaggs. Labour Heartlands #TrialByJury #FreeSpeechMatters

Scrapping jury trials is an affront to the very foundations of our democracy. From the moment this government was elected, it has come after the civil liberties we all hold dear. This is yet another outrageous assault on our fundamental freedoms. I will be voting against it.

The Last Jury: How Britain is Quietly Dismantling Eight Centuries of Justice Today, Parliament debates the quiet dismantling of eight centuries of democratic justice, where the Jury itself is on trial and under threat. It comes as Parliament convenes to debate the findings and proposals of the Independent Review of the Criminal Courts, we witness the quiet dismantling of a cornerstone of British democracy. The proposals, which return to Parliament on Tuesday, would replace juries in England and Wales with a single judge in cases where a convicted defendant would be jailed for up to three years. This isn’t the dramatic overthrow of a coup, but a death by a thousand cuts, veiled in the mundane language of “administrative reform” and “efficiency.” These seemingly benign terms mask a profound assault on the right to trial by jury. This is more than a mere cost-saving exercise or a quick fix to the mantra of “justice delayed is justice denied.” It is a calculated step towards a more authoritarian future, where fundamental rights are eroded in the name of expediency. The cornerstone of our democracy and the right to Trial by Jury is under attack. Perhaps most insidiously, we find ourselves governed by a Parliament populated with barristers and legal professionals who have ushered in the age of lawfare, a dystopia of silence and conformity where basic civil rights are systematically removed by those who claim to protect them. We have entered the rule of lawyers, where the legal profession becomes judge, jury, and executioner of any crime, and crime itself becomes whatever they decide it to be. This is not the impartial administration of justice but the consolidation of power in the hands of a professional class that has forgotten that law exists to serve the people, not the other way around. The Historical Echo: How Liberty Dies. If that’s not enough, more recent history offers uncomfortable parallels. The Nazi regime’s initial legal reforms were presented as efficiency measures, streamlining a supposedly cumbersome system inherited from Weimar. The gradual replacement of jury trials with judge-only proceedings was justified by complexity, cost, and expertise. Closer to home, the suspension of jury trials in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, initially presented as temporary for exceptional circumstances, became normalised for decades. Once removed, rights tend to remain absent. The Leveson proposals follow this familiar pattern: present the removal of rights as technical adjustment, emphasise practical benefits, and rely on public indifference to constitutional principle. Most people will never face serious criminal charges; why should they care about theoretical jury rights? This misses the fundamental point that constitutional protections exist not for the majority who will never need them, but for the minority who will. The right to jury trial is the legal equivalent of a smoke detector, useless until the moment it becomes essential. labourheartlands.com/the-las… #TrialByJury #Starmer #Lammy @ukl

This is an illegal, unprovoked and brutal attack that shows once again that the USA and Israel are rogue states. The UK must end our cosy relationship with the USA and our ongoing support for Israel.

The attacks on Iran by Israel and the United States are illegal, unprovoked and unjustifiable. Peace and diplomacy was possible. Instead, Israel and the United States chose war. This is the behaviour of rogue states — and they have jeopardised the safety of humankind around the world with this catastrophic act of aggression. Our government must condemn this flagrant breach of international law, and urgently pursue a foreign policy based on justice, sovereignty and peace.

Except our exalted leader hasn’t a bone in his back… no chance of him condemning the orange man child

Well so much for a New Year being better than the last. We made it to the 3rd day before the Rogue State (great book by the way) that is the USA attacks a sovereign nation, destroys its infrastructure, and kidnaps its elected leader. If this wasn’t a state actor, this would be called out globally as terrorism. Just because it is a state actor doesn’t mean that label doesn’t fit. Dress it up any way you want — this is about oil. Oil not traded in dollars. Oil sold to Russia and China. That’s it. Same message. Same politics. Same accusation. Just harder to sidestep. washingtonpost.com/world/202…

The Rogue State continues its terrorist legacy washingtonpost.com/world/202…

They call it a “perk”, take next month’s pay early, keep the lights on, keep quiet. They fix nothing. You just start every month already in a hole. Same struggle. Same fear. Same chains. Modern Day Slavery I liked the job when I first walked in, but the wage was thin as air. Just the legal minimum, mate not a penny more, call that “fair?” Every week they push the hours: “Just help us out, the we’re short.” I think what I could do with the cash nothing fancy, I’ve bills to sort. Sixty a week and still I’m skint, kids need clothes, and bills need paying. Fridge half-empty, nerves worn thin, every night I’m praying. “Take your wages early,” they say and smile, as if they’re saints in a money-saving scheme. Next month’s short, back in the hole and I’m back where I’ve always been. Then comes the email soft with guilt: “Have you tried debt advice?” Like debt’s a hobby I chose for fun, like any of us choose the price. Foodbank queues after nightshifts, that’s the part they never see. They send me foodbank links at work, I’m already there weekly. Bosses still stacking profit high, pat our backs and praise the grind. I’m meant to thank them for the chance to leave my life behind. Call it work if you want to. But I’ve learned the truth of the chains: this is modern slavery dressed as a job, and cash is the weight that remains.

Is anyone else pissed off about these employee benefits that only benefit the employer? This is about those salary sacrifice schemes you get at work. They make it sound like they’re doing you a massive favour, offering all these “benefits” to save you money. But really, you’re the one who ends up paying the price, literally. They save on their National Insurance, you save a bit of tax, and then, bam, you’re hit with a bloody tax bill later down the line. All the while, they’re grinning ear to ear because they’ve made millions on the side. It’s dressed up as being for your benefit, but it’s just another way for them to skim off the top while we do the graft. The Subsidy They talk like they’re doing us proud, a scheme to make life fair; but it’s the same old bosses’ bollocks, mate bend over, if you dare. They flog you shit as “easy pay,” a benefit, they swear; but it’s shafting with no lube at all, and they don’t fucking care. They dress it up in glossy words, “support,” “employee plan”; but every month they dip your wage and call it being a man. We queue for phones and screens and crap, for washers, laptops, tat; and laughably we think we’ve won each time we sign for that. They tell you it’s the cheaper route, a perk, a saving, right? But they’re the ones who pocket more while grinning fucking bright. We sacrifice, they cream it off, three million on the side; and somehow we’re meant to be proud we helped the bastards hide. They never tell you what it means, what tax you’ll face next year; they rely on us not knowing shit and nodding out of fear. It’s not a perk, it’s robbery, disguised as workplace “care”; they fuck you soft, they fuck you slow, and call it “doing their share.” They preach about “our people first,” the values on the wall; but when the sums are added up, we’re footing costs for all. So here’s the truth they never say, the line they won’t admit: we subsidise the empire, mate and they live off our grit.

My ADHD didn’t have a name until I was 60. No label, just me, living with a mind that never slows. I learned to ride the spin, to grab the thoughts that mattered. Then I had a stroke. The carousel kept turning… but my grip changed. Some days I can catch the thoughts. Some days they fly past. This poem is about holding on to memory, to identity, to myself even when everything keeps moving. Carousel There’s a carousel inside my head, that turns without a sound, its thoughts and memories racing past, too fast to pin them down. I used to step on when I chose, and lift what mattered clear, hold tight the things I meant to keep, and set aside the fear. For years I learned to ride the spin, to steady as it swayed, to quiet down the storm inside until the noise obeyed. A moment hit that split the wheel, a silence sharp and cold, the carousel kept turning on, still fierce, still bright, still bold. Sometimes I try to scream it out, but nothing breaks the air, the shout I hear inside my skull stays trapped and dying there. The world walks on without a pause, deaf to the things I’ve said, for all my noise is made of storms that never leave my head. Now thoughts spin past before I see, a blur of half-formed light, I try to catch the ones I need but lose them in their flight. It’s hard to know what’s real or not, what’s feeling, noise, or truth, hard balancing the man I am against the man of youth. And simple things can slip away like reins I cannot keep, the ride goes on without a pause while I move slow and deep. Yet still I stand beside the spin, and reach through all I’ve lost, trying to lift one steady thought and hold it, at any cost. Sometimes I win, oft times I lose, but still I carry on, I know there’s me still deep inside this mind that feels half-gone.

I watched my father struggle in job after job after leaving the Army. He carried the habits and conditioning they’d drilled into him, but the civilian world had no place for it. That experience stayed with me. This poem speaks to that same journey from soldier to veteran a path shaped by conditioning, fractured by silence, and weighted by duties left unfinished. It traces the language of violence, the loss of belonging, and the fragile triangle of responsibilities between the MOD, employers, and the individual. Above all, it asks what happens when one side walks away, and the burden falls on those least able to bear it. After the Gate Closes They strip away the self you knew, A number, drill, a name, A haircut sharp, a uniform, You’ll never be the same. They march you out in ordered lines, Obedience drilled in fast, The future fades, the present rules, The past becomes the past. Rewards for doing what you’re told, And punishments for wrong, The soldier self is born from this, Conditioned to be strong. But when the gates swing wide at last, And papers mark you done, The MOD has banked its years, Its duty seen as won. A veteran now, you walk away, No longer just a man, You’re neither soldier nor civilian, But something outside the plan. Civ Div is the posting new, A foreign, silent land, Where banter turns to warning notes, And humour’s out of hand. In offices of spreadsheets, rules, The panic starts to grow; A missing form, a coffee spat, They call it crisis though. They breathe once, steady hands, a nod They’ve faced the real abyss; “No one has died; the sky still stands” Perspective, not amiss. Yet calm mistaken looks like drift, Like apathy, or worse, The culture clash grows sharp and wide, Each side feels the curse. Some turn to roles where order rules, Where structure holds the day; The badge, the rig, the prison gates, Feel safer than the grey. In uniforms of different cut, The habits still belong; The rigid lines, the rule of law, Are where they feel most strong. Belonging once was automatic, Your section, corps, your crew, Now breakfast clubs and meetings small Replace the bond you knew. Isolation grows from this, The triangle bends and cracks, Jobs and families take the strain, The burden on their backs. The MOD stands absent at the gate, Its ledger stamped “closed case”; Employers take the weight within The veteran fills the space. Three corners meant to share the load, But one has slipped away; The frame gives out, the weight comes down, On those who have to stay. De-conditioning is a debt unpaid, A task we must pursue; Till MOD, employers, veterans stand, The losses will ensue. For years they make all violence norm, A language, sharp and clear; From shouted words to breaking bones, It’s what you learn to hear. But one day that is torn away, You’re told you must not be, The person that they built from scratch, The one trained for war’s decree. De-conditioning must bridge this rift, To help two worlds align; To keep the living standing whole, And save the broken line.

Please sign this petition if you agree... The public deserves representatives of integrity. Lord Mandelson’s continued presence in the House of Lords is incompatible with that principle. chng.it/5wtRytTRQ4 #MandelsonPetition #Epstine #StarmerKnew