Sometimes, the people who end up shaping the political future aren’t the polished, respectable figures we expect — but rather those who thrive on noise, anger, and discontent.
Right now, that uncomfortable truth seems to be playing out with the growing influence of Tommy Robinson.
I’ve spoken with his supporters, and I’ve seen the size of the marches he draws.
What worries me most is that so many decent, ordinary people are now putting their trust in a man whose leadership feels crude and cynical.
Nothing I could say would convince them otherwise.
And that leaves me asking: how big could this movement get?
Why Danny Kruger Doesn’t Measure Up
On the other side of the political spectrum sits Danny Kruger, often spoken of as a rising figure for Reform UK.
But compared to Robinson, Kruger’s presence feels weak and symbolic of the wider failings of official conservatism.
When the Tory Party was sliding into liberalism, where was Kruger? Right in the middle of it.
He was close to David Cameron, helping draft speeches like the much-ridiculed “hug-a-hoodie” message, and later attached himself to Boris Johnson.
He defended the Tory Party as “the vehicle of the people” while dismissing those of us who warned against its decay.
Now, he’s turned to Nigel Farage as his new “vehicle.”
The Shadow of Populism
Years ago, I feared Britain would one day face its own brand of “Trumpism” — loud, angry, and dangerous populism dressed up as conservatism.
Nigel Farage once seemed the main threat, but in truth, compared to Robinson, Farage looks tame.
The danger with these movements is that they tend to escalate.
What begins as populist energy often morphs into something darker, especially when economic pain bites.
With bills rising, wages shrinking, and jobs at risk, Robinson’s brand of politics could become a far more powerful force than many want to admit.
And if not him, perhaps someone even worse could emerge.
The Trident Dilemma
Away from domestic politics, Britain faces another looming crisis — its nuclear deterrent.
Within the next decade, the Royal Navy could face an almost unthinkable situation.
Imagine this: the First Sea Lord rushing to Downing Street, admitting that Britain’s only operational Trident submarine has been submerged for 250 days, its crew exhausted and supplies nearly gone.
And with no replacement ready, the country’s nuclear defense left dangerously exposed.
This isn’t just speculation. Earlier this year, one of the Vanguard-class subs returned to base after a record-breaking 204 days at sea, its hull coated in barnacles.
All four of these subs should have retired already, yet they limp on, patched together at enormous cost.
New missile boats are not expected until the 2030s — and that’s if everything goes to plan.
Former Navy chief Admiral Sir Tony Radakin has confirmed the scale of the problem, openly admitting sailors are being pushed to endure “extraordinarily long patrols.”
It raises the hard question: can Britain still afford to pretend it is a superpower?
The Menace of Fatbikes
And then, closer to home, there’s another menace — one that clutters our streets rather than fills our headlines.
If you thought e-scooters and e-bikes were bad, meet their more dangerous cousin: the “fatbike.”
Originally named by the Dutch, these souped-up electric bikes are usually ridden at illegal speeds, often by masked riders, and are rapidly becoming a blight on British cities.
Our roads and pavements are already crowded with reckless two-wheelers, and the rise of fatbikes only makes things worse.
Frankly, “deathbike” might be a more accurate name.
A Nation at a Crossroads
So here we are: faced with the rise of a crude populist force in Tommy Robinson, a floundering official conservatism represented by men like Danny Kruger, a creaking nuclear defense system, and everyday chaos brought on by reckless new trends on our streets.
The question is whether Britain can confront these problems before they overwhelm us — or whether, as history too often shows, we will wait until the breaking glass and smoke force us to act.