Jackie Griffin offers Insight into a Strange Marriage

'Well, I'm so proud of him, I mean, I'm not even sure what he does over there, even he doesn't seem sure, but I'm very proud, I watch his videos sometimes, so charismatic, this is the reason I married this man, one day soon, he'll be running the EU!

The other day he got home, he had been away a good few days, he came in and made some joke about the gravy train, and then ran into the toilet. He called me over, I love talking to him through a door, he was saying that there are some very important delegates coming over soon and that we must put on a banquet for them. I asked him who was coming and he said it wasn't important, but that they were important and that we would have to impress them.

I went out to the shops, it took me a good few hours and two journeys to buy everything Nick wanted. I was so nervous as well, we're always having important people call round, Simon Darby came in the other day to charge his iPhone, and Clive Jefferson came in for a cheese sandwich, but this was the big one. Important delegates from the European Parliament, I had to impress them! Again I asked who was coming, he told me Jacques Pierre de Gaulle and Heinrich Schmidt amongst others. I had no idea who they were, for all I know, he could have been making them up, but this is why I'm the wife of the leader of Britains fourth largest political party and not the leader of Britains fourth largest political party, or its most popular and hard working MEP!

Anyway, hours later, the banquet was ready, I went into Nicks office, he was sat there sleeping, he is so cute when he snores, he works so hard you know! I gently woke him up, he jumped up and shouted for the Green Arrow to put down weapons. Nightmares again, it's all the pressure the state put him under. He couldn't even remember what banquet I was talking about. I told him, the one with the very important delegates, all twenty of them coming over hungry to talk about important political things, this seemed to jog his memory, he ordered me to leave and said that he would be through shortly to greet them. I heard him pick up the phone as I left, but my mind was distracted by the house phone suddenly going off. I answered it 'The Griffeeeen residence, lady of the house speaking..' as we do here, and was told by a French man, I'm assuming Jacques Pierre de Gaulle, that the important delegates wouldn't be able to make it any more. Oh how devasted I was, not because I had been up for six hours preparing the food, the table, the house and the pets, but for Nick. He was in his office waiting for them to arrive and was so very excited!

He came out and looked at me, he had this weird look in his eyes, he said, who is it? I told him it was Jacques Pierre de Gaulle and that the important delegates wouldn't be able to come over. He said to me, what, the twenty important delegates won't be able to come round and talk about important political stuff any more? I told him no. I went to hug him, but he walked into the dining room and sat down. He said, 'well no point letting good food go to waste', and started eating. I asked him if he wanted me to ring Simon up so he could come round and talk about important political stuff, but he said he'd rather just eat on his own. I went back into the kitchen and started to tidy up, I had a lot to do, it's amazing how much mess you can make preparing a meal for twenty important European delegates.

These important European delegates you know, they do this at least three times a week, I'm always preparing massive banquets for them, and they're always letting him down. It's just as well he is a kind and patient man, if I was him I wouldn't even invite them round any more but he doesn't learn, still, at least the food doesn't go to waste, Nick can eat most of it, and what he doesn't he puts in a doggie bag for Jefferson along with the scrapings.'

Turkey Breath

Tales Of The British Resistance! Another Thrilling Instalment Of Our Heroic Saga For Patriotic Lads!

Episode Four: Agent Brons Addresses The Nation!

These were great days indeed for the Heroes of the Resistance. “Bertie” Berk – sidekick, general factotum and Chief of Technical Staff to Agent Arrow, had laboured long and hard, through many sleepless nights, to bring the hardy, but antiquated, crystal radio rig to a peak of finely-honed technological perfection.

Tonight was the night! The Resistance' Man in Brussels, Agent Brons, was to speak to the Nation. And he had chosen the humble radio set of Agents Arrow and Berk, isolated within the Nantyglo Safehouse, as the vehicle for his message of Hope and Defiance.

This was the night. Thousands of listeners – possibly millions – huddled around their radios across the Occupied Territories of Britain, ground down by years of toil beneath the merciless heel of the vile Searchlight Commissariat, would finally hear news of how the Great Struggle progressed beyond these benighted shores.

Arrow could only guess at the result of their State-Of-The-Art broadcast to the Nation.

In preparation for this momentous night, he and Berk had been laying in their supply of ammunition for the revolutionary chaos that would surely follow: The Gat Gun lay in wait with a fresh supply of .177 pellets, the catapult was newly-strung with fresh elastic, and a cache of deadly Brasso, Irn Bru and Turps Molotov Cocktails lay ready for action.

1900 Hours.

Zero Hour.

Nervously, Berk tweaked the Bakelite knob on the trusty crystal rig. A feint hissing grew louder. Deftly, as though one with the machine, Berk eased back on the tuner and lightly tapped the “Overdrive” button.

“Now!” He said to Agent Arrow, who followed the instruction to throw the switch marked “Broadcast Relay”.

This was it! Agent Brons was Live to the Nation! Circumventing the broadcast controls of the hated Gableite Regime!



“Sorry 'bout that...” mumbled Berk. “Had my finger on the “send” button all the time...”

Agent Arrow sank back into his seat. Berk tried to sound positive. “Never mind, eh?”

Arrow was unconvinced. “Next time! We'll get the buggers next time!”, continued Berk.

The radio crackled into life once again.

Berk flew to the dial and fine-tuned the delicate device as a familiar voice came through the ether.

“It's Agent Cyclops!” cried Berk; “He's through to the entire Nation!” Arrow sat up, electrified: His beloved Leader? Addressing the Nation? This was, indeed, victory snatched from the jaws of defeat!

“Turn it up, Kinsman!” he shouted; “Our Nation must hear the Leader's words!”

Berk, modulating the frequency like a great conductor controls an orchestra, reduced the crackling static to a bare minimum and allowed the Leader's lush, charismatic voice to be relayed across the airways to his starved, crushed People.

“Fellow Patriots”, he began, as Agent Arrow drew himself to a salute: “We need your donatio...”

As suddenly as it had appeared, the voice vanished.

“Bertie” Berk threw himself at the Rig, frantically checking to see what could possibly have gone wrong. “But I had it!” He exclaimed: “It was working perfectly!”

It was only then that Berk registered Agent Arrow, holding the plug in his trembling hand. There was an air of dejection around the Stalwart Resistance Fighter.

“Don't worry about it, Old Boy,” he said, pulling the rag from a Molotov Cocktail and drinking deeply from it: “It's a repeat...”

Stirring Tales Of The British Resistance! Another installment of our thrilling new serial!

Episode Three: Dark Days for the Resistance

“Here's another one!” said “Bertie” Berk, listening to the hissing static of the precious crystal radio in the Nantyglo safehouse.

The stalwart Batman and sidekick of dashing Resistance Operative Agent Arrow looked concerned.

“Looks grim, Old Chum”, he said, lowering the bakelite headphone. “Yet another report of strange goings-on at HQ”.

Agent Arrow strirred himself from his light doze. “Oh, God...” he groaned, taking another swig from his Brasso ,Turps and Night Nurse stiffener. With the new revelations of untoward goings-on at HQ coming in on an almost daily basis now, Arrow was finding it hard to remain committed to the Resistance Cause.

“Says that Agent Cyclops has been caught out again. This time it's a fiddle involving ration cards. Offering Fourpence in the Shilling to settle outstanding bills.”

Arrow didn't want to hear any more. Agent Cyclops: the most respected Resistance Leader the Nation had ever known – reduced to such tactics? It was scarcely believable. Agent Cyclops: The virile young Freedom Fighter whom Arrow had first seen on that glorious, sun-kissed day so many years earlier, absent-mindedly brushing back a lock of his tousled hair as he gently, but firmly, took hold of an elderly Supporter's pen, helpfully and forcefully guiding it as she wrote a cheque for the Resistance. “Just make it out to cash!”, the heroic Leader had playfully joshed, before merrily tearing the cheque from the Follower's hand and putting it in his wallet. How Arrow had wished they could be alone together. Just once. How he'd wished Agent Cyclops would take him in his sinewy, muscular arms...

“You alright, Old Chap? Interrupted Berk; “Went a bit flushed there, Kinsman!”

Agent Arrow lit a shredded cardboard, carpet fluff and dandelion cigarette and brought his unique, incisive grasp of the Sinister Ways Of The Searchlight-Controlled State to bear on the matter.

“You're so trusting!” he told Berk; “Can't you see it's more black propaganda and smears from Gable?”

The hated Gerry Gable – Commissar of the all-pervasive Searchlight Directorate and the true power behind the State. This was, Agent Arrow had to keep reassuring himself, nothing more than the latest in the unending series of devious ploys to distract the heroes of the Resistance from their true, holy course - nothing less than wresting their benighted Nation from the clutches of a loathed regime that had allowed coloured newsreaders to appear without dinner jackets on the BBC, a Hit Parade consisting largely of discs by young people of all ethnicities under the age of fifty, and the true, nerve-shredding horror of some vile alien muck called “Chicken Tikka” used as a pizza topping.

“Guess so.” said Berk, sounding unconvinced. “Just that we're getting these reports from our comrades in the Resistance. More and more. Every day! And still no word from HQ!”

“Steady the buffs, Kinsman!” snapped Arrow. “It could be that other Resistance Cells have been infiltrated by Searchlight – we might be the only True Believers left!”

Berk nodded, taking Arrow's sage words on board. “Just wait: We'll hear from HQ and we'll know that Cyclops is as sturdy, committed and stalwart a Leader as ever!”

As if by way of punctuation, the radio crackled into life.

“It's HQ!” Berk ejaculated.

Excitedly, Agent Arrow launched himself the length of the shed and clasped the headphone to his ear, poised with a notepad and stub of pencil to take down the vital message from Agent Cyclops.

Slowly, Berk noticed Arrow's expression change. He stopped writing. His initial, near-feverish anticipation turned, over the ensuing moments, to resigned gloom.

Arrow slowly replaced the headset and switched the crystal set off.

Silently, he passed the notepad to “Bertie” Berk as he poured himself another snifter.

“We need your donat...” it said.

Berk joined his valiant comrade in a glass of the murky liquid.

Green Arrow Bites Off More Than He Can Chew (Again)

Oh dear. Paul “Green Arrow” Morris has done it again.

Just as he's started a shiny new blog (“The British Resistance”), because his last one had become such a laughing stock and the target of so many attacks from his own side, Captain Hogwash has kicked things off all over again by attacking the BNP's resident sacred cow, Andrew (I-Used-To-Be-A-Nazi-But-That-Was-Just-Youthful-Hi-Jinks) Brons.

Generally regarded (by his supporters) as a decent cove and a credit to nationalism (although, next to the competition, Vlad the Impaler might seem a genial old sort), MEP Brons has kept his head down in Brussels, occasionally appearing over the parapet to deliver interminable speeches from the floor on various esoteric subjects to a largely uninterested world.

In a post entitled “So What Will Andrew Brons BNP MEP Do?”, Hogwash addresses the Nation on the pressing matter of Brons' not yet publicly abasing himself before the altar of Griffin, in his customary style that swings between a Uriah Heep-ish, “Ever so 'umble” wheedling and the pompous, “I-Am-The-True-Voice-Of-The-BNP-And-Anyone-Who-Dares-Disagree-With-Me-Is-A-Filthy-Traitor” style that we on the opposition have come to know and enjoy (but never, strangely enough, to fear).

“Now Andrew,” he says at one point – just to show that he's evidently on first name terms with all the Top Brass; “I must confess to being very disappointed in your lack of obvious support for the Chairman over the last few months. I know the history but it was your duty to stand by him and in my opinion you let him down. Make up for it now.”

The real issues for Morris, it seems, are the continued employment in Brons' EU operation of Chris Beverly and Eddy Butler, and the presence on the recent jolly to Brussels of “Self-centred egotist Mick Barnbrook” and Shelly Rose. Shelley Rose is, of course, the young woman allegedly sexually assaulted by Jim Dowson. Any real political party might actually think such allegations worth investigating – even to the extent of inviting the Police to take a look – rather than immediately closing ranks and subjecting the woman to a campaign of poisonous vilification. By the way, that's the same “Mick” Barnbrook of whom a very silly old Welshman once wrote “I honestly did not realise what a trooper he really is. A credit to Bexley and a credit to our Party. I hope one day that Michael becomes our Justice Minister”.

Excuse me. I just did a little bit of sick in my mouth.

The Brussels trip doesn't, to be fair, sound like many people's idea of a good time. A coach and ferry trip to attend a talk on the Battle of Waterloo (presumably delivered in Butler's nasal, Estuarine monotone), followed by a visit to the Parliament with Brons and dinner in a Napoleon theme restaurant.

Hold me back.

But in attacking the trip, Chris Beverley (“get rid of Chris Beverly (sic) – the one who pulls the puppet Butlers (sic) strings.”) and Brons in particular, Morris has, yet again, annoyed the hell out of just about everyone on his own side.

The following day, and a promised article on Chris Beverley (trailed with the sepulchral announcement “More about him in tomorrow's article...”) has failed to appear. Cold feet? Or a swift telling off from Brons to stop being so bloody spiteful and childish?

Indeed; the article that did appear (“Andrew Brons – Caught Between a Rock And A Hard Place”) is so creepily obsequious (“I personally have great admiration for Andrew Brons. The man has courage, style, charm, intelligence...”) that, when the BNP finally goes tits-up, Morris should easily be able to find gainful employment knocking out press releases for Kim Jong Il (or “Un”. Whoever's turn it happens to be in a few week's time...)

Of course, only a cynic would suggest that a large part of Hogwash's ire is down to the fact that he didn't get to go on the junket. Certainly, some of his commentators seem to be upset by this: “It is very disappointing to see reformists reaping benefits when true BNP people are left at home” says Maria Riley-Ward (or “shaydee_lady” as she's known when cutting and pasting her curious EDL / Daily Mail fansite known as the “Derby Patriot”).

Imagine the stuff he'd have come out with if he had been invited.

On second thoughts, don't bother: You might do a little bit of sick in your mouth.

Stirring Tales Of The British Resistance! Another installment of our thrilling new serial!

Chapter Two: The Deadly Dead Letter Drop

Agent Arrow - the craggy, wordly-wise leader of the Resistance - lit a precious cornflake, coffee ground and catlitter cigarette and nervously opened the door of the safehouse.

This was the first time he had left the shed in six months, and his sharply honed undercover senses told him it was a risky venture. He knew the agents of the Searchlight-controlled State were everywhere: The old lady at the bus stop, the seemingly friendly policeman on his bicycle, the young children playing in the park – any one of them could, even now, be reporting his movements directly to Chairman Gable himself; sitting in his plush Whitehall lair smoking a fine Romeo y Julieta and flicking idly through his ermine-bound copy of “What Moustache”.

Arrow knew he must take care, but the stakes were too high to remain underground now. “Bertie” Berk, his faithful batman and fellow operative, had received a message from their Control – the Resistance Leader known only as Agent Cyclops. There was a top secret communiqué to pick up from the Nantyglo dead letter drop, and it must be done immediately.

As Arrow walked nervously along the road, staying close to the hedgerows in the knowledge that he may need to dive for cover at any moment, he remembered with a swell of pride his earlier undercover service in Northern Ireland.

In those far-off days, fighting the Fenian menace, Arrow was famed among his comrades for adopting a disguise so cunning, so effortlessly convincing, that anyone would have assumed he was Belfast born and bred. The orange woollen wig and beard, the bright green jacket and matching top hat set off with a large, felt shamrock. The whole finished with a corncob pipe and a nuanced accent perfected only after carefully studying “The Quiet Man” a dozen times or more...

Thanks to this impenetrable disguise, he had felt safe. Whenever he greeted a suspected terrorist with the words “Top o' the mornin' and beggorah! T'will be a foyne day fer plantin' a bomb of good auld Oirish gelignoyte under the bedevilled English, so it will!”, he had known that he went entirely unsuspected; instantly accepted by one and all as a fellow Papist.

Here, today, it was different. Although he had improvised a disguise to pass himself off as one of Gable's UAF henchmen, the safety pin through his septum was beginning to sting and the threadbare tee shirt (bearing the legend “I Luv Alvin Stardust” – Agent Arrow knew full well how influenced were young Marxists by their incomprehensible adherence to punk rock) was cold in the brisk Welsh air, even when worn over several stout layers of potato sacking.

More unsettling than his discomfort, however, was the feeling of being so totally alone: Unable, in some cases, to trust even fellow Resistance fighters. Barnbrook of the Yard – the sterling detective with a nose for trouble; “Honest” Eddy Butler – stalwart of the London Resistance; both had been unmasked in recent months by Agent Cyclops as slavering Marxist traitors, bought and paid for by the state in return for Tesco Vouchers beyond the dreams of avarice. Lately, Arrow had even begun to suspect that their man in Belgium, the Agent known only by the codename “Ex-Nazi”, had been turned.

These were dark days indeed.

So far as Agent Arrow was concerned, there were only a handful of true Resistance Fighters left. Agent Cyclops, of course, and dear old bumbling, well-meaning Agent Berk. These and a mere handful of others were the last survivors of the Resistance.

Arriving at the Ffoesmaen Inn, Arrow approached the door with understandable trepidation, tapping the accepted code – three short taps and a long scrape – on the side window.

No reply.

He tried again, with greater insistence. Still, there was silence.

Furtively checking that no-one could see, Agent Arrow bent down to the letterbox and shouted the Special Emergency Code Phrase inside.

“John has a long moustache!”

Still there came no reply.

Gingerly, his hand tight on the trusty .177 Gat Gun in his pocket, Agent Arrow entered the Public Bar. The landlord seemed nonplussed to see him. “A cunning ruse. The poor man's terrified we're being watched by Agents of the State”, thought Arrow.

“What can I get you, Sir?” asked the Landlord.

Clearly this was another code, thought Agent Arrow. “It's. A. Very. Nice. Day. Today.” he replied, slowly and deliberately, while winking.

“Bitter? Lager?” Continued the Landlord.

This wasn't working. Perhaps the unfortunate fellow knew their conversation was being monitored.

Taking his courage in both hands, Agent Arrow realised he would just have drop any subterfuge and come straight to the point; when the bullets started to fly, he'd take his chances.

“Look. Have you got a letter for me?” He asked. The Landlord sighed.

“Oh, it's you is it?” he said, taking an envelope from beneath the bar and handing it to Arrow. “Sent to the wrong address”.

Agent Arrow took a pint of fine (if strangely cold) lager and sat in a corner to read the secret communiqué.

Was this it? Was this finally the message from HQ that all staunch fighters of the Resistance had so long awaited? The announcement that the elements were in place and the final battle was to begin?

He allowed himself to pause, before opening the envelope. This had come from the hands of Agent Cyclops himself: The same hands that he would occasionally use to brush back his lustrous, dark hair. The same hands with which he would stroke his broad, manly chest and possibly reach down to...

“You alright there, Sir?” interrupted the Landlord; “looks like you're getting a bit flushed.”

Agent Arrow shook himself from his reverie and tore open the letter.

“Dear Fellow Patriot” the letter began.

“The British National Party urgently needs your dona...”

Agent Arrow's heart sank. He finished his pint.

Don't miss the next thrilling episode: The Name's Morris - Paul Morris

Starts Today! A Manly Tale Of Pluck And Derring-Do In The Face Of Unspeakable Beastliness!

Chapter One: Codename - Green Arrow!

“Cripes!” Green Arrow ejaculated, “There's a message coming through!”. “Bertie” Berk and Agent Arrow strained to hear the faint tapping of Morse Code coming through the hissing static of their trusty crystal set. “Can you make it out?” asked Arrow urgently, passing the bakelite headset to Bertie.

“Sound's like “Send... Ammunition?” replied his sturdy sidekick; “Send... A... Musician?”. The two heroic resistance fighters exchanged quizzical glances. Was it code? Had their Controller, the shadowy figure known only as “Agent Cyclops”, adopted a new cypher without telling them, or had the information simply been lost in the last supply drop, along with the oft-promised funds from HQ?

Arrow delicately, and with the practised touch of an expert, tapped the radio rig with the heel of his shoe. The static fell away slightly.

“It's getting clearer”, he said. “Send... A... Alsatian? Dalmatian?”. “Search me, Old Boy” replied Berk, “got any lager?”

The lager, bubbling happily on the Primus stove, had been just about the sole comfort for the brave lads of the Resistance during the long weeks of their confinement at the Nantyglo safehouse, an abandoned shed behind the sewage works. That, and the occasional luxury of a cigarette, cunningly fashioned from tealeaves, acorns and toilet paper.

As Berk poured a chipped enamel mug of the steaming nectar, Arrow continued to alternate between frenziedly hitting the doughty rig with his shoe and tweaking the fragile cat's whisker.

“Kinsman-I'm getting it! Pass me the pen!”

Bertie groaned. The pen – a top secret Resistance-issue ballpoint which (Cyclops had explained, as he sold it to them for twenty guineas) had the cunning function of changing its ink colour instantly whenever the Trained Operative manipulated sliding tabs arranged around the base – was, as ever, in its “special hiding place”.

“Hang on a mo', Old Chap; just finding it.” Berk reached down inside the back of his moleskin trousers and carefully wrested the precious object from its trusty scabbard. After a few moments, beads of sweat dotting his brow, Bertie handed the vital implement to his Comrade.

“You may want to give it a quick wipe.” He said.

Tremulous with excitement at hearing from HQ, Arrow briefly allowed his mind to wander: Was this it? The message all staunch Britons had so long awaited in the dark days of their terror under the iron boot of the ruthless Searchlight Commissariat? The Call to Arms? The beginning of the final titanic struggle that would see all but decent, Christian, heterosexual, heavy-drinking, White Britons driven from the land of his birth?

His thoughts turned to Agent Cyclops sending the message from his secret HQ deep in the Welsh countryside. Perhaps, mused Arrow, the heroic young Leader was sending his message fresh from the shower; rivulets of water still dripping from his broad, manly chest. Perhaps, while composing the vibrant message of hope and defiance, he may have brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, briefly allowing the towel to drop from his waist and perhaps... perhaps...

“You alright, Old Bean?” interrupted Berk. “went a bit flushed for a minute there.”

Arrow shook himself from his reverie and returned to the task in hand.
Letter by letter, he carefully decyphered the stuttering dots and dashes.
“S”, “E”, “N”, “D”, “New Word – D”, “O”, “N”, “A”, “T”, “I”, “O...” Arrow stopped writing.

His staunch heart sank as he closed the notebook.

“While you're at it, Bertie – pour one for me...” Berk filled a jam jar with the potent liquor. Arrow took a sip and recoiled as the scalding brew touched his lip.

“Do you think we're meant let it cool down first?” He asked.

Don't miss next week's thrilling installment: "Carve His Name With Mother's Pride!"

Green Arrow: The End Is Nigh...

This is a sad day for British Anti-Fascism.

The Green Arrow website is to be no more. Never again will we get to chuckle at the sad antics of military fantasist, connoisseur of fine lagers and self-styled scion of the Welsh BNP Paul Morris.

In a characteristically rambling post, Captain Hogwash announces that he will be shutting down his “successful site” because “the name “Green Arrow”... has started to overshadow the message it was intended to promote”.

Indeed, one can't help agreeing with the buffoon there: The name “Green Arrow” has, indeed, become synonymous with suicidally self-defeating idiocy on a scale unseen since Hitler said “and let's have a pop at the Russians while we're at it...”

Whether the decision to close has been Morris' own (which I somehow doubt) or he's only following orders from his Fuhrer due to the massive embarrassment factor of having such a palpable loony as his number one (even though he generally speaks number twos) cheerleader it's best to leave open; although the fact that he's now considered radioactive by his beloved South Wales BNP must have had some bearing on the matter.

So never again will we get our daily trip to the comedy goldmine that is (was?) the Green Arrow site. No more Blimpish hilarity about “traitors” and “kinsmen” and “show 'em the black flag!”. No more of his homoerotic (if unrequited) worship of Griffin. No more platform for his (rapidly shrinking) retinue of Conspiracy Theorists, Armchair Activists and Assorted Cranks. The site is to be no more.

There is hope, however.

In a move sure to rekindle memories of his heroic exploits in Northern Ireland, Aden, Normandy and Mafeking, Hogwash is to go underground and form “The British Resistance”.

Constantly pursued by the Tesco voucher-wielding agents of the State, Morris will dart from safehouse to safehouse across Nantyglo, sheltered in wardrobes and attics as he listens for coded orders from HQ on his crystal set (cunningly fashioned from CostCo lager cans) and relays his messages of hope to the couple of dozen people who still take him seriously (and the hundreds more who enjoy a good laugh). Perhaps, like Jean Moulin before him, he will occasionally emerge from hiding to give inspirational talks at public gatherings. (The main difference being that Jean Moulin was, of course, a Hero. And his few speeches weren't (according to eyewitnesses) typified by semi-coherent rambling and self promotion.)

R.I.P Green Arrow. Let's hope the new site is even half as funny.

Idiot Green Arrow reveals his identity

Paul Morris aka Green Arrow

Speaking at the pitifully attended "Indigenous Weekend" Paul Morris aka Green Arrow finally came out of the fascist closet and revealed himself (That isn't a nice thought is it)

Speeches taken from the fiasco have been uploaded to Youtube, including one by Morris.

We won't be providing the link on here, but if you go to Youtube and search for "Welsh fascist" I'm sure you will find what you are looking for.

Don't have nightmares.

The BNP Summer School 2010 - a dead duck or a damp squib?

"About 160 people were seated to hear Our Chairman address them..."
Report on the BNP's Summer School by John of Gwent, one of Green Sparrow's mob.

'Our Chairman'? As in 'Our Father'? Lordy.

Also, isn't it strange that, with an alleged 160 hanging off His Lordship's every word, the only photograph of this event that has been released to the world at large, shows a grand total of NINE in the audience (and one of them looks like he just died).

However, this might be explained by the only other picture we could find of the weekend, this being a picture of the site itself, swarming with Griffin-loyalists.

Is Griffin's BNP dying on its arse? You decide. Just ignore the tumbleweed blowing across the site and the wind howling through the empty, cobweb-covered tents.

Are You Sitting Comfortably? Another Bedtime Story...

Once Upon a Time...

There lived an Old Welsh Knight. He was the silliest old Knight who ever lived, and he liked to tell great tales of his life as a young Knight to anyone who would listen.

He used to tell tales, for instance, of how, as a young Knight, he fought great naval battles on great warships, and how he was once a member of a secret army who protected the Kingdom. In the great tales he told, he was the bravest, wisest and most popular Knight who ever lived.

But all of his great tales were just lies. He had just been a cabin boy on the great warship and had never seen a battle, and he had never, ever been a member of a secret army. He told the lies to try and make himself look big and brave and fierce, but he was really just a very silly, very sad and very lonely Old Knight.

His only friends in all the Kingdom were other lonely Knights, who would come to the tavern and share goblets of his boiled mead and swap great tales of bravery and derring-do; but the Old Welsh Knight always made sure that his own stories were bigger and better and more exciting than anyone else's.

But the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends were not all they pretended to be: One of the younger and most popular Knights of the group had once been locked in a dungeon for frightening children. He never told the other Knights this, because he was pretending to be a great Knight and wanted the others to like him. Another of the Knights would boast about how he had attacked great red dragons in his younger days, but had really only ever attacked his poor wife and children.

These Knights were happy, though, and spent long evenings in their tavern trying to impress one another with their great tales of heroism and bravery. The one thing that united them, the one thing upon which they were all agreed, was that their Kingdom had the greatest and wisest King in all the world, and that they would each willingly lay down their lives in his service.

But then, voices of dissent began to be heard throughout the Kingdom. People began to whisper in the taverns that the King was not the greatest and wisest in all the world: He was a cruel King, who stole the taxes of the poor and had all who disagreed with him thrown into exile.

The Old Welsh Knight and his few friends were angry to hear of people saying such things of their King, and would denounce them loudly, calling them “Traitor” and “Spy” and “Villain” and calling for their exile from the Kingdom.

And so it went on, for month after month.

But the voices of dissent spoke only the truth: For the King was indeed a cruel and despotic ruler, and more and more of his Subjects came to realise this.

But it wasn't just the people who had slowly come to see the truth about their King: There were even Knights - who had once been admired by the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends – who saw the truth about the King and denounced him, upon which the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends would suddenly turn against such Knights, shouting that they were traitors and claiming they had known all along that they were foreign spies.

And it wasn't very long before the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends were the only ones who still believed in the goodness and righteousness of their King.

Until, one day, the People had had enough, and they overthrew the King, and he was delivered up to the justice of his enemies. And in the ruins of his palace, the People found all the evidence to prove that the King had been every bit as bad – and worse - as everyone had said.

The Old Welsh Knight and his few friends saw the evidence, too, but were too proud and foolish to admit that it was all true and that they had been misled by the evil King for many years.

And even though the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends tried to bluster, and shout loudly about how they were still the wisest, and bravest, and truest Knights in all the Kingdom, the people simply ignored them, and laughed at them, and went about their business.

And the Old Welsh Knight and his few friends were soon entirely forgotten, and died, unloved and unmourned.

New: The G.A Pin Badge

As promised, G.A has produced some limited edition pin badges to present to those who have in their own way supported his site and what it promotes and believes in. These badges will be awarded retrospectively and in the future. There will only ever be 10 made (Enough for all of G.A's friends and allowing for several spares).

G.A alone will decide who the Award Winners will be.

The Chosen Few will always be proud to wear these badges, and they will be recognised, lauded and celebrated in song and verse wherever they go. So long as they only ever go to G.A's house.

Sadly, they are not for sale. (Not due to exclusivity, but rather the fact that the incredibly poor manufacturing quality of the Wellard Enamel Badge Company (Insolvent) Ltd ensures that their jagged, unfinished edges and vicious, rusting pin would fail to receive a health and safety certificate in Kabul, let alone Nantyglo.)

Paul "Green Arrow" Morris: A Hearty Appreciation

As any parent will tell you, toddlers do a very good line in selective deafness. My own boy, in his younger days, could manage blank indifference to a level that would foil a brainscan if asked to come and have his dinner, or put his toys away, yet could detect the music of an ice cream van or a rustling sweet wrapper in another town.

Such is the case with Paul “Green Arrow” Morris. A windy old blowhard who will drunkenly shout the virtues of his beloved BNP while portraying a suspiciously homoerotic fixation on its wonky–eyed leader, and yet will conveniently retreat into a world of Carthusian silence whenever an inconvenient truth emerges that might shatter his world view.

Like the fact that the Party have failed to submit their accounts on time. Again.

Over on Morris' blog today, for example, we have a bizarre rant on the usual theme of Europe about to be invaded by hordes of Muslims with their funny curved swords and their penchant for white women; a piece about how Idealogical Tory David Cameron is actually leading a Marxist government dedicated to the overthrow of the White Race, and an aside (from Morris himself) about how Mark “Naziboy” Collett may THINK he's got away with his dastardly plot to assassinate the Dear Leader, but you can jolly well bet your boots that the ones he “threatened” will – even now – be getting ready to launch a private prosecution against the would–be murderer and so drag him through the courts after all.

Because obviously the BNP Leadership would love to have the opportunity to air their internal wranglings in open court, and never, ever pass up such a chance. (Cheap sarcasm there.)

Whether or not the much–quoted story about Morris boiling cans of cheap lager in order to “increase the alcohol content” is true, he's clearly a man with issues.

The failure to submit accounts is serious. It demonstrates, yet again, that the BNP are NOT a “serious, legitimate” political party. It shows that they can't even fulfil the most basic requirements of playing with the Big Boys. It might even suggest (to all but the most naïve supplicant) that the Leadership are in a blind panic, have something to hide, and that Butler and the anti–Griffin factions might just have a point, after all.

Not so with Morris, though. Like a toddler who doesn't want to eat his broccoli, the old fool ignores it in the hope that the whole nasty business will go away.

As with the accounts, so with wrongfully dismissed BNP staffer Michaela Mackenzie. Despite the fact that she was offered a financial settlement by Griffin who has since reneged on the deal, and is currently on the verge of beginning bankruptcy proceedings, there's no mention of this minor detail of Party affairs from the fearless Morris.

Morris is happier living within a fantasy world (as beautifully outlined in an astonishing piece some time ago where he – with childlike innocence – portrays himself and his dim bulb mates as “The Three Welsh Musketeers”). A fantasy world in which He, the sagacious and respected old military commander, sits tirelessly at his keyboard, marshalling the dwindling forces of Light and Decency in his neverending struggle to defend his beloved Nation from an onslaught of Orc–like Darkness.

In Morris World, too, the fact that I'm writing this piece serves only to illustrate the righteousness of his stance: Lefty Morons like myself only attack him because he's right, and we're terrified of his intellect and his fearless warrior bearing.

Sorry, G.A., I actually write this piece because I – along with all of the anti–fascists I know and (judging by the chatter on far–right talkboards) most of your own side - think you're absolutely bloody hilarious: The kind of self–deluded old keyboard warrior who does nothing but good for your enemies' cause.

Carry on, Old Boy! Pip, Pip!

Bilious Nasty Pathetic

Axed BNP webmaster Simon Bennett claims that supporters of leader Nick Griffin are behind a "hate mail" campaign that targetted every residential and business address in his home town of Camelford.

"Make no mistake about it," said Bennett on his website. "This sick hate campaign will have been approved by Nick Griffin."

Bennett claims that he was made aware of the campaign this morning (Friday) when Devon and Cornwall Police called him. Bennett says:

"They were alerting me to a hate mail campaign that had been conducted against me that had targeted every single residential and business address in my home town of Camelford and the surrounding areas. The police informed me that they had been inundated with complaints from local residents that know myself and my family very well, and that these people were absolutely horrified that someone could do such a wicked and evil thing to us."

The hate mail, which appears to have been posted in East London, consists of a two-sided flyer purporting to be the work of an unknown group calling itself the "Southwest Awareness Group", and makes "allegations" against Bennett of theft, drug use, forgery, blackmail and extortion - allegations made against Bennett on a smear blog set up by supporters of beleaguered BNP leader Nick Griffin. The flyer (below - click for larger) also includes Bennett's full address, where he lives with his partner and young children, aged eight and ten



Interestingly, the BNP claims to be in possession of exactly the same kind of software package that would be necessary to mass-mailshot residents and businesses in a particular area, and - unsurprisingly - Bennett's friends have not been slow to make the connection.

If Bennett's claims are true, and if this hate mail campaign is the responsibility of Nick Griffin's supporters, then the consequences for the racist party will be dire. The use the Royal Mail in this way is a serious criminal offence in the simple matter of one individual sending such mail to another individual, but there is no precedent that we know of in which a political party has hate-mailed an entire town in pursuit of an almost gangster-style vendetta against an individual.

Apart from the BNP leadership, Bennett has earned the visceral hatred of internet joke and Griffin sycophant Paul Morris (aka Green Arrow) and West Wales deputy BNP organiser Roger Phillips, who made death threats against Bristol anti-fascist Mark Watson in December of last year.

The green, Green Grass of Nantyglo

Morris, who is not a BNP member, suffers a disorder which causes him to believe that BNP leader Nick Griffin keeps a special place in his heart for Wales' best known sycophant. In fact, Griffin's opinion of the windy keyboard warrior veers between contempt and utter contempt.

"Warsash", as he likes to be known in his increasingly empty Paltalk chat room, blew an online fuse shortly after Simon Darby announced "his" decision to stand down from the post of BNP deputy leader. Hearing that a number of people had signed leadership challenger Eddy Butler's nomination papers at a meeting of Crawley BNP on Wednesday evening, "Warsash" Morris promised to publish the name of every BNP member signing the papers. In the past, of course, Morris supported and encouraged Lee Barnes, who threatened to publish the names and addresses of BNP members less than 100% loyal to Nick Griffin - which in part prompted us to publish Morris's address and led to a prolonged bout of self-pitying whining on the part of the lager-boiling hero.

Morris has made no secret that he believes any BNP member signing Butler's nomination forms should be purged from the party, and is supported by Vernon Atkinson (aka Vernon SE), who encouraged pro-Griffin members to email details of what was said at BNP branch meetings, together with the names of pro-Butler members, for non-member Morris's use.

Atkinson attended the Crawley meeting but walked out when the anti-Griffin sentiments expressed proved too much for him to bear.

Second only to Morris in his sycophancy, Atkinson is a former member of UKIP and stood as a BNP south eastern regional candidate in the 2004 Euro elections. In May, standing in Crawley's Furnace Green ward, Atkinson - who for some reason is noted for putting BNP logos on kites (go figure) - achieved a dreadful 228 votes (7.4%), yet managed not to connect his awful vote with Griffin's awful leadership.

We feel certain that Atkinson's open endorsement of the leaking of internal BNP matters and members' names to an outside agency (Morris) will result in Atkinson's swift suspension.

It will, won't it?

Having penned a fawning tribute to Simon Darby, Morris sat back while his little army of Griffin cultists weighed in with their tributes. Atkinson was soon off the mark (BNP spelling and grammar preserved): "Simon is also an iconic nationalist who will be written as a legend in the nationalist books of history of the savours of the British peoples."

And so was East Goscote (Charnwood) BNP Councillor and apostrophe enthusiast Cathy Duffy: "I cried my eye's out when I read of Simon's resignation, and can't stop now even, but I pray to God that Nick gets re-elected and Simon will come back as his deputy. If anyone is to take over this party, as might just happen, I so prayed that it was Simon. I so despair at what Eddy Butler and his crew have done to split this party, and as an elected Councillor representing the party, I don't know what the hell to do now if he should win when I do not/ can not support him and his lot! What on earth does he think he can do in ONE year and who has HE got lined up as the next leader as he say's that he will only take the position for one year only?????????? This whole thing has really upset me to say the least, and that these so called 'Nationalist's' could do this to our party is totally beyond my comprehension."

"Warsash" Morris's band of sycophants then charged over to Simon Darby's blog for a thoroughly enjoyable mass prostration at the feet of the ex-deputy leader.

Nick Griffin could, of course, rein in the out of control Morris. We have often wondered why, since Morris's activities have always diverted highly desirable funds away from the BNP proper, he has never done so to date. That Morris is openly collecting data on BNP members gives him every reason he could ever need to proscribe the ridiculous Warsash before Morris can do any more to harm the good name and reputation of the BNP.

He will, won't he?

BNP deputy leader resigns

Simon Darby has resigned as deputy leader of the British National Party. However unlike many others in the fascist party, he has not fallen out with Nick Griffin. In fact his resignation is a convoluted gesture of support for the beleaguered BNP leader.

Griffin and Darby have been spooked by Nick Cass’s support for Eddy Butler’s challenge to Griffin’s leadership. Cass, the former Yorkshire regional organiser whose picture, with his wife and children, has appeared on many BNP election leaflets as the typical wholesome British family that votes BNP, is very popular in the party and is likely to attract further support for Butler’s challenge.

Cass is being promoted as Butler’s “running mate” for deputy chairman. In an attempt to take the wind out of the challengers’ sails, Darby, who has been deputy leader since 2005, claims the post has “absolutely no constitutional standing”.

Darby is being disingenuous to say the least. He claims the position of deputy leader was created as an “ad hoc measure” by Griffin when he was facing the possibility of imprisonment on charges of inciting racial hatred (on which he was eventually acquitted). That may be so, but he in fact supplanted Scott Maclean, who was then deputy chairman of the BNP, a position that does have a role in the party constitution. It is this role for which Cass is putting himself forward.

Darby’s resignation, with immediate effect, is presented as an attempt to take the “distraction” of the deputy leadership out of the leadership election, as if that would somehow make Cass go away.

Darby also cites his “self-imposed demotion” (so the deputy leadership position does have some meaning then) as giving him the “moral right to ask that others at least exercise responsibility and restraint”.

He rather spoils his attempt to occupy the moral high ground when he calls for an election that avoids “setting nationalist brothers and sisters against each other by repeating enemy lies and black propaganda about the current leader and his team”. Where is the plea for Griffin’s supporters, in particular his communications chief Paul Golding, to desist from spreading vicious smears and lies about Butler?

Griffin’s most sycophantic supporter, Paul Morris, who blogs under the name Green Arrow, was quick to reject any notion of a civilised and honourable contest. “I would also be interested now, in receiving the names of all those who sign Butlers nomination forms, in order that I may make public all information that I may gather on those people who are either deliberately trying to destroy the BNP or those stupid enough to support them,” he wrote less than three hours after Darby’s resignation.

For good measure, Darby concludes with his own snipe against Butler. “Don’t wake up one morning later this year to find that we’ve lost Nick Griffin and his team, and replaced them with a jostling, squabbling, unstable, untested and indecisive coalition.

Sonia Gable at HOPE not hate

BNP's copyright-breaching habits spread to the lower ranks

Green Arrow: copyright thief, idiot and bigotThe BNP's breach of copyright over the recent use of a Marmite jar in a broadcast without permission is likely to cost the party a hefty five-figure sum - corporate lawyers tending to dislike people who steal their company's intellectual property without either paying the going rate or at least asking their permission before use.

But it's not just the BNP itself that is happy to breach copyright law - the habit seems to have been passed on to at least one of the party's supporters.

Exactly six months ago, we reported that the cretinous bigot Paul Morris (yes, Green Arrow), one of Nick Griffin's most vocal arselickers, had stolen the work of artist Mark Simpson, who had supplied the artwork for a Green Arrow series for DC Comics back in 2006. When he had realised this, Simpson emailed Morris to object, only to be told by the petulant Morris that '…the origins of the Green Arrow name had nothing to do with some pathetic socialist comic hero', though what that had to do with the theft of someone else's well-crafted artwork wasn't made clear.

In any case, Simpson was informed that the image would be removed and that was an end to the matter as far as he was concerned. He had, it seems, only strayed on to the Green Arrow site by accident and, like most humans with a brain, was unlikely ever to visit the site again through choice.

However, Paul 'I love Porky Griffin' Morris, is not only a devoted creep, he is also a serial liar, as Denise reports in her excellent article here. And it is this article that led to one of our readers popping over for a quick peek at the Green Arrow site (screenshot, above), where he discovered that the image Morris had agreed to remove is not only still in place but appears to have doubled in size.

Perhaps this is Morris's way of thumbing his nose at the artist who dared to question his right to do whatever he pleases - Morris is nothing if not pompous and arrogant - but he may find that the owner of DC Comics, Warner Brothers, is even less forgiving than the owner of the Marmite brand, Unilever. Let's hope so, because we'd like our readers to complain about his theft of copyright images to DC Comics directly.

Naturally there are circumstances under which organisations would seek the permissions that Paul Morris should have sought. In his case though, he shouldn't bother, because DC Comics is pretty unequivocal on the matter.

'What follows are detailed guidelines for submitting a request for the right to use our materials...here’s a list of requests for which we will NOT grant permission'

'Military, government, or other political organizations, or requests of a military, governmental or political nature.'

Whoops. Feel free to contact the relevant people at DC Comics via email on dc_publicity@dccomics.com to express your surprise and dismay at seeing the artwork of one of their fine artists sullied by association with this rabidly racist buffoon. If enough people email them, we're pretty sure that DC will take a look at the Green Arrow site. Once they do that and see the kind of lunatic ramblings that take place there, a takedown notice should follow swiftly.

Thanks to Paul S for the heads-up.

Website slurs 'not my view' - BNP candidate

Sheffield British National Party candidate Mark Collett has distanced himself from remarks made about the Queen and MP David Blunkett on a far-right website.

The 29-year-old, standing against Mr Blunkett in Brightside, was challenged about comments calling Her Majesty a "liar and traitor to her own people," and calling for her to be tried for "treason" and "sedition" for signing EU treaties.

The post, on the BNP supporting Green Arrow website, concluded: "She is no monarch of England or the UK, she is a craven coward."

Another blogger said that his first reaction on hearing the Queen's Christmas message was to "switch to Anglo-Saxon mode and write '**** you and your descendants you treasonous bitch'."

Green Arrow also contains offensive comments about Mr Blunkett for supporting immigration. One read: "Blunkett of course is also a traitor and will one day face justice for this act of treason."

Another calls on voters in Brightside constituency to support Mr Collett, the BNP's head of publicity, to "wipe out Blunkett's majority". It also makes offensive personal comments about Mr Blunkett.

Mr Collett said Paul Morris, who runs Green Arrow, is not a BNP member and that the website is "not endorsed by the party". He added: "They are not my views nor those of the BNP. It's just an individual on the internet."

The Star

A reminder of Collett's past thoughts on royalty and other matters:

On Winston Churchill: "Churchill was a f***ing ***t who led us into a pointless war with other whites [i.e. The Nazis] standing up for their race".

On the Prince of Wales: "He's a f***ing traitor."

On the Royal Family: "The Royals have betrayed their people. When we're in power they'll be wiped out and we'll get some Germans to rule properly."

On Aids: "A friendly disease because blacks, drug users and gays have it."

On Jews: "There's not a European country the Jews haven't been thrown out of. When it happens that many times, it's not just persecution. There's no smoke without fire."

On Adolf Hitler: "Hitler will live forever; and maybe I will."

BNP refuses to condemn insult to Queen

The Green Arrow, a BNP supporting blog, has launched a revolting tirade against the Queen, calling her a “traitor”. The BNP have refused to condemn the site. Their toleration of the likes of the Green Arrow shows how there is nothing even remotely patriotic about the BNP.

The GA, which is run by Paul Morris, said that the 84-year old monarch is a “liar and a traitor to her people”.

This is not the first time that the GA has insulted Queen Elizabeth. In January 2010 he wrote:

“The time has come my friends to now talk of treason and sedition. Treason already committed by our own Queen and Sedition that should now be committed by all True British Patriots.

The Queen has already committed five acts of treason by signing EU treaties that have finally abolished Our Nation. She will go down in history as the only monarch to ever have broken her Coronation Oath. We owe her no allegiance and now have an actual patriotic duty to remove and replace her.”

On the Queen’s Christmas message he said his first reaction was to:

“… switch to Anglo Saxon mode and write “”F**k you and your descendants you treasonous bitch”

He went on to urge British citizens to commit sedition:

“She is no Monarch of England or the UK, she is a craven coward who has betrayed Our Trust … The Queen has committed Treason, we must now commit Sedition as Our Patriotic Duty. Long Live the British National Party”

One could be forgiven for thinking that the GA is a lunatic and on the outer fringes of the BNP. However, in December 2008 he was invited as a “welcome guest” of Bridgend BNP. Morris’s blog is extremely popular amongst BNP internet users and has been used as a intermediary by sympathisers such as Bill Murray, former secretary of the Welsh BNP and Director of Soldiers off the Street, in their quarrels with anti-BNP campaigners over their links to the extremist party.

When contacted by Nothing British this morning, the BNP explicitly refused to condemn the GA’s un-patriotic and crude remarks about the Queen. A BNP press officer bizarrely told NB that it was us who were instead “low-life” and “un-patriotic”.

The BNP claim to be patriotic and wrap themselves up in the flag and the Armed Forces. But when the rabble rousing Anjem Choudhury screams for Shariah law and says that the Queen should wear a burka, the BNP and the GA shout out treason and say we have been betrayed by the Establishment for allowing him to say such things. The BNP have one system of values when condemning Choudhury but apply another one for themselves.

Nothing British

BNP bigot using stolen DC Comics artwork

Artist Mark Simpson got a nasty surprise when he googled “Green Arrow”, the name of a left-leaning DC Comics hero for which Simpson supplied artwork in 2006, for there, right at the top of the listings, were links to the blog of bigotted BNP coward Paul Morris, who had ripped off not only the “Green Arrow” name but also Simpson’s distinctive artwork.

Simpson, usually known as Jock, was aghast to find his graphics adorning drunken ranter Morris’s blog and emailed the caravan-piss-up-againster to object.

Morris replied that “…the origins of the Green Arrow name had nothing to do with some pathetic socialist comic hero”.

Yeah, well, of course not. It’s all a coincidence that right from the off, when Morris’s bile-full blog was first hosted by Blogger, that he used the Green Arrow name and ripped-off copyrighted Green Arrow artwork.

Simpson tweeted that Morris’s use of his images was “leaving a horrible taste in my mouth”, and said that he had informed DC Comics’ legal department – “heads are gonna roll”, he said. Shortly after that, Simpson added that “They’re going to take it down”, but nearly 24 hours later Morris continues to infringe DC Comics’ copyright.

Norfolk Unity

BNP blog condemns the contribution of Muslim servicemen

A racist website with close links to the BNP has called Islam the “Cult of the Dead Paedophile” and condemned the contribution made by British Muslim servicemen to Britain’s Armed Forces.

The Green Arrow web site, run by the BNP supporter Paul Morris, writes that “no true” servicemen would want to serve with “a bunch of moslems whose loyalty is not towards our country but to a dead pervert”.

The Green Arrow (GA) writes that front line soldiers should be concerned about serving with Muslims because they might get fragged or shot by their own side. On serving with Muslims on the front line the GA wrote: “I would be thinking fragging and friendly fire”.

And in a reference to the Muslim service personnel in the RAF, the GA wrote that they couldn’t be trusted because they come from a relgion that believes, “the primary role of a plane is to be flown into a building”.

The GA’s un-patriotic and inflammatory blog was a reaction to the news that the Armed Forces have formed a support network for Britain’s Muslim servicemen and women. The association, which aims to improve social cohesion with Britain’s Islamic communities, has been wholeheartedly supported by Britain’s top military brass.

Defence Minister Kevan Jones MP told Nothing British: “I am extremely proud of the diversity within our Armed Forces and I recognise the contribution, dedication and sacrifice of all our personnel. Muslim personnel, many of whom I have met stationed in the UK and abroad, are serving with distinction and currently hold a number of senior positions.”

General Sir David Richards, Chief of the General Staff and a former commander in Afghanistan, said: “I am a huge supporter of the creation of the Armed Forces Muslim Association. It reflects the growing numbers, importance and relevance of the Muslim soldiers, sailors and airmen serving the United Kingdom with such distinction today and, I have no doubt, in the future.”

Muslims have been fighting in Britain’s Armed Forces since 1757 when a number joined the East India Company. During World War Two many Muslims gave their lives in the fight against Nazism, including people like SOE agent Noor Inayat Khan GC MBE, one of only three women to be awarded the George Cross. Khan was tortured to death in 1944 by Gestapo agents in France.

In recent conflicts British Muslims have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. In 2006 Lance Corporal Jabron Hashmi, a 24-year-old military intelligence specialist, was killed while fighting in Afghanistan against Al-Qaeda and the Taliban.

One could be forgiven for thinking that the GA is a lunatic and on the outer fringes of the BNP. However, in December last year he was invited as a “welcome guest” of Bridgend BNP. Morris’s blog is extremely popular amongst BNP internet users and has been used as a intermediary by sympathisers such as Bill Murray, former secretary of the Welsh BNP and Director of Soldiers off the Street, in their quarrels with anti-BNP campaigners over their links to the extremist party.

Update:
Liam Fox MP, Conservative Shadow Defence Secretary, has told Nothing British: All members of our Armed Forces are hugely valued regardless of their gender, race or religion. We should always celebrate the contribution they make to our national security and our national wellbeing.

Nothing British comment:
If you are prepared to give your life to help protect Britain and her national interests you are a welcome addition to our society. The Green Arrow’s crude and disrespectful remarks are un-patriotic, dangerous and divisive.

Nothing British

Row brewing over Premier League golliwogs

A row is brewing between a Powys-based seller of racist novelty goods and the Premier League over the use of club insignia and colours for racist memorabilia.

Patriot Products, run by BNP supporter Roger Phillips, sells a range of “official” merchandise alongside BNP badges, “Enoch Powell was right” paraphernalia and golliwogs wearing the colours of clubs like Manchester United, Portsmouth and Wolves. Patriot Products was launched at this years BNP Red, White and Blue rally.

The site is managed by the Green Arrow, an anti-Semitic, anti-Moslem blog run by Paul Morris, a BNP activist and conspiracy theorist.

The Premier League, Liverpool FC, Chelsea FC, Manchester City and Tottenham Hotspur FC have Nothing British’s dossier and are considering their options. The legal costs of a battle with this irritating little site may seem disproportionately large. However, the football industry has invested so much to rid itself of assocations with racism that any complacency could be very costly in the long term.

Nothing British