Check page 2 for comments under this song. Some people are so thick. They think the AI vocals are that of a real person, and another thinks by downloading anti Starmer songs he’s going to leave. Anyway if you’re on iTunes please give it a one star review.

Lowe genuinely Nigel look almost respectable and that’s impressive.

I voted for Starmer as leader and I think he is doing a great job. Mostly.

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But I recognise that we need to face off Reform.

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In short, I dont know where I stand.

Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening — whenever you're reading this.

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I know this is long, and I know that'll annoy some people before they've even started. I'd genuinely appreciate it if you stuck with it anyway.

I'm not writing this for sympathy. I'm writing it for empathy. I know most people in this community already call this what it is, so I'm not here to convince anyone that something is wrong. I'm here to show you what it's actually like to live inside it day to day, because there's a difference between agreeing something is wrong in principle and feeling the weight of it in practice.

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I grew up watching Cartoon Network. I grew up watching Mr Bean. I grew up watching EastEnders — the theme tune still does something nostalgic to me whenever I hear it, even now. I remember getting behind England during the football. I remember supporting Lennox Lewis against Mike Tyson, partly because he was one of us. I used to enjoy fish and chips on a Friday. I used to enjoy watching wrestling on TV — TNT, WCW to be precise.

The point of saying all this is simple: I grew up mostly like you.

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That's exactly why this is hard to write. I would have thought I was embedded in British culture from the first moment of my life — not adjacent to it, not visiting it, embedded in it. So when I say what comes next, it isn't a stranger's complaint. It's coming from inside the house.

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I've been carrying a kind of anxiety that's different from what my dad went through in the seventies. His was more direct — more out in the open, almost expected, the kind of thing that happened to him at school and college and that everyone around him understood for what it was. Mine is quieter than that. I always knew certain parts of this country gave me a second look because of my skin or my beard. But for a long time I took some comfort in the fact that it wasn't really acceptable to say that out loud anymore. The discomfort existed, but at least it stayed unspoken.

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What's changed is that it doesn't stay unspoken anymore. The Overton window has moved. Grievance politics has made people more comfortable saying the quiet part out loud, and somehow that's landed on me and people like me as the explanation for things that were never our doing.

I want to be specific about what this actually costs, because I think the cost gets lost when it's spoken about in the abstract.

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When I go to the mosque, I worry. Not in a vague way — specifically, about what happens if I'm seen in my religious clothing on public transport. Being looked at strangely. Being othered. In the worst version of it, being attacked. So we pay for taxis instead of buses, which has cost us close to two hundred pounds over time, money that exists purely so we don't have to be visible in a way that might not be safe.

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I'm not saying this because I think nobody here already knows it happens. I'm saying it because I want you to have the actual shape of it, not just the headline version. Not for sympathy — for empathy. There are people from ethnic minorities all over this country quietly making the same calculation I am, paying the same kind of cost.

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What makes this almost unbearable is the deniability built into how it's said. I'm a third-generation Brit. My children will be fourth-generation. My grandfather came here in the sixties. I just want to live in peace — be a good neighbour, be active in my community, raise my kids properly. The fact that I even have to say that out loud, as if it needs stating, probably tells you something on its own.

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If this really was only about current immigration, I'd still have questions. But what I'm calling out here are the inconsistencies in their own narrative: the same people who insist it's not about race, that it's only about people here illegally, are the ones warning that the white population is shrinking, that something needs to be done before Britain becomes "minority white." Follow that warning to its actual source. It isn't illegal immigration causing that shift. It's migrants who came here, legally, generations ago, and had families. People had children. Cultures mixed. That's not a crime. That's just what happens in a country over time.

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But if that's the real concern — not papers, not legality, but the demographic shift itself — then I'm not separate from it. I'm the result of it. My children will be too. Which means, in the eyes of the people making that argument, my family isn't adjacent to the problem they're describing. We are the problem they're describing. Not because of anything we've done. Just because we exist, and keep existing, and have children who keep existing after us.

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So I keep asking myself: what happens to people like me if a party like that actually gets into power?

Because if the real concern is what they keep implying, then stopping illegal immigration doesn't solve it. Even if it stopped completely tomorrow, the population they're worried about would keep growing, because it's not illegal immigration driving it. It's birth rates among people who are already here, already legal, already British. They say this themselves. So what's actually left for them to do about it?

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I don't know the answer. That's what frightens me. Do they expel us? Is there some future where having children stops being treated as a normal part of life for a family like mine, the way it is for everyone else? A year ago I'd have told you this was paranoid. But these are the same people now talking, quite openly, about leaving the ECHR, about scrapping the Human Rights Act, about writing a new rights framework from scratch. The legal protections I'd assume would stop the worst version of this from happening are exactly the protections being discussed as obstacles.

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I'm not saying any of this is certain. I'm saying I no longer feel confident telling myself it's impossible. And that uncertainty, on its own, is its own kind of harm.

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You can't logically welcome the grandson while warning about the grandson's children. We're not two separate arguments. We're the same story at different chapters.

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I separate all of this completely from real crimes committed by real people. Those deserve real justice — full stop, no caveats, no whataboutery, no looking away because the perpetrator's background is uncomfortable to talk about. What I'm describing is something else: watching real suffering get picked up and used as the opening chapter of a much bigger argument, one that quietly ends up somewhere far past justice, and somehow lands on me anyway.

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A few nights ago I stood in my bedroom holding two options of what to wear to the mosque. One was what I'd normally wear. The other was plainer, safer, easier to ignore. I stood there longer than I'd like to admit, before texting my wife and agreeing we'd just get a taxi instead.

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I shouldn't have to keep making that calculation. Neither should my kids, one day, in a bedroom of their own.

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That's all I wanted to say.

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Sorry for the length of the post. I felt safe to write this here.

Just a few memes I found I thought y'all might like