Fed Up And Angry - At The UK

Russell Yorkshire

January 7, 2026.

I’m sat in the pub, scrolling X — which I know is basically like drinking lighter fluid and wondering why your throat’s on fire — but even allowing for inflation and algorithmic hysteria, I’m getting genuinely angry at the country I live in.

Every other post is either “prepare for war with Russia,” “food bills up again,” “energy prices rising (again),” or two-tier policing and justice so obvious it’s stopped pretending to be accidental.

And presiding over all of this is Old Keef — yes, Keir Starmer — apparently positioning himself to quietly, politely, responsibly hand the whole bloody country back to the EU while insisting it’s “not rejoining, just aligning,” in the same way jumping back into an ex’s bed is apparently “just a cuddle.”

Ninety-five percent of MPs lie as easily as they blink. The remaining five percent either get smeared, silenced, or politely ignored. The opposition doesn’t oppose — it manages decline, nods along, and offers the political equivalent of a shrug and a laminated leaflet.

Nothing is challenged. Nothing is fixed. Everything is “complex,” except the bills landing on kitchen tables. Families are struggling. Not “tightening belts,” not “adjusting expectations” — struggling.

Food shops are now tactical operations. Energy bills read like ransom notes. And while this is happening, Parliament debates absolute balderdash as if the country isn’t creaking at the seams.

We get a bit of snow — not a blizzard, not the Ice Age, just an inconvenience — and the nation panics. Schools shut, shelves empty, chaos everywhere.

Meanwhile Icelandic countries carry on functioning like adults because they still understand preparation, resilience, and not losing their collective wits at the first sign of adversity. So what happened to us, we British?

This is a country that endured the Blitz, rationing, blackouts, strikes, winters that actually tried to kill you. A country built on grit, dark humour, and the refusal to be cowed. People spilled blood for this place — not so future governments could outsource sovereignty by stealth while telling us it’s for our own good.

I used to love this country. Truly love it. Now I’m watching it being hollowed out by liars, cowards, managerial politicians, and a public class trained to accept less and clap politely while it happens.

The problem isn’t Russia. It isn’t the weather. It isn’t even the economy. The problem is we’ve forgotten who the hell we are — and the people in charge are banking on us never remembering.

© Russell Yorkshire, 2026

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