may

THE ONLY MAN, WE CAN TRUST, TO PUT BRITAIN FIRST. RUPERT LOWE 🇬🇧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

Have the removal trucks arrived at No10 yet?

Mainstream media screaming “far-right” at Rupert Lowe? Translation: He wants to end the asylum scam, deport every illegal, abolish hotel accommodation for invaders, and put British workers and families first. In other words… he’s saying out loud what millions of normal Brits are thinking. Proud to stand with him. 🇬🇧❤️🇬🇧

VOTE RESTORE BRITAIN 🇬🇧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🇬🇧

Now #Starmer and his lawyer chums are destroying the #SAS……from within. There is no end to the damage this cretin is inflicting on the UK.

Britain is a Christian country, built on Christian values, with Christian traditions - those supposedly ‘leading’ us would do well to remember that. We don’t need multiculturalism. We have a culture, and it works just fine. I’m certainly proud of it, and you should be too.

Thumbs up if you agree?

This Friday 12PM - Home Office to Downing Street - A message will be delivered by @orlaminihane @pinkladies_uk

They're impoverishing you through carbon taxation. Replacing you through weaponized mass migration, and silencing you through censorship.

Since the end of World War II, over 7,000 British service men and women have given their lives in conflicts around the world. They stood. They served. They never came home. We will remember them. 🇬🇧 Lest we forget. #LestWeForget #BritishForces #Remembrance #Veterans #NeverForgotten

Why are our supermarkets such pussies? They cover the cost of shoplifting by increasing prices - so we pay more! Tackling shoplifting is everyone’s business.

Can anybody explain to me how paying Norway £40 Billion to sell us North Sea gas and oil we could drill ourselves is saving the planet?

Refusing to resign when your position is untenable isn't strong leadership. It's arrogance and ego. Starmer out.

I find it odd that some people want to verbally attack someone for having a different political opinion or outspoken about their beliefs or is simply speaking the truth. It says a lot more about them, and I hope they get well soon!.. Have a wonderful day folks! 🇬🇧 #RestoreBritain

🚨 SIGN NOW – PROTECT OUR CHILDREN 🚨 Our petition has officially been accepted and is now LIVE. This is the moment — we need 10,000 signatures to push this forward. I BELIEVE PEDOPHILES SHOULD BE HUNG IN PUBLIC!! My first petition calling for life sentences for first offence was refused!! So the next best thing got accepted. We have a government who protect pedophiles unfortunately. This isn’t politics. This is about protecting children. Right now in the UK: * Nearly 87,000 sexual offences against children were recorded in just one year. * Children make up only 20% of the population, yet are victims in 40% of all sexual offences. * An estimated 3.1 million adults in the UK were sexually abused as children. And it doesn’t stop there… * Around 1,000 suspected offenders are arrested every month across the UK. * The justice system shows that around 28–29% of offenders go on to reoffend after release. That means thousands are being released… and some are going on to commit more crimes. Meanwhile, victims carry the trauma for life. ⚖️ This petition calls for: * Mandatory life sentences for repeat offenders * No early release * Real protection for children and communities This is about drawing a line. 👉 Sign now. Share it everywhere. Stand up. If you believe children should be protected above all else — your voice matters right now. petition.parliament.uk/petitions/7650…

Elon Musk: "The reality is we’re building super-intelligent AI, hyper-intelligent, more intelligent than we can comprehend It’s like raising a super-genius child that you know is going to be much smarter than you You can instill good values in how you raise that child: philanthropic values, good morals, honest, productive Controlling it at the end of the day I don't think we'll be able to The best we can do is make sure it's raised well"

Contentment isn’t oppression. Women are completely free to choose the life they want - career, homemaking, motherhood, or any mix. No guilt. No shame. That’s REAL freedom. But decades of propaganda convinced us that choosing home, husband, and children meant we were “oppressed” or “wasting our potential.” We were told the only acceptable path was rejecting family for the rat race. The result? Record unhappiness, loneliness, and broken homes. That wasn’t liberation - it was a lie. It’s time to reverse the propaganda. We must restore Britain’s policies to genuinely support women who choose to stay home and raise their family - because the nuclear family wasn’t the cage. The lie that it was - that was the cage. Choose joy. Live without guilt. Join @RestoreBritain_

In January 1998, for approximately one week, the British public stopped whatever it was doing and gave its full attention to the fate of two pigs. This actually happened. Newspapers cleared their front pages. Television news led with daily updates. Office workers asked colleagues whether there'd been any sightings. Pubs debated strategy. Children wrote letters. And somewhere in a damp thicket in Wiltshire, two young Tamworth pigs, blissfully unaware that they had just become the most followed fugitives in the English-speaking world, were curled up in a mud wallow they had built to their own specifications, having the time of their lives. They stole the nation's heart in a week. This is how it happened. On the morning of 8 January 1998, a man named Arnoldo Dijulio loaded two five-month-old Tamworth pigs into a lorry bound for V & G Newman's abattoir in Malmesbury, Wiltshire. They were a sister and a brother. Ginger-coloured, leggy, bright-eyed, of the oldest native pig breed in Britain. Worth approximately £40 each. Nobody had told them any of this. The lorry arrived. The ramp went down. The pigs came out. And then, in a moment that would shortly consume the attention of three continents, the pair of them took one look at where they were, assessed the fence, and left. They squeezed under it. They crossed a field. They came to the River Avon, a river most pigs, if asked, would probably decline on principle. They swam it. On the far bank they shook themselves off, had a brief consultation, and disappeared into a dense thicket near Tetbury Hill, where they proceeded to do what every Tamworth has done since the Domesday Book. Root. Forage. Sleep under brambles. Ignore humans entirely. Within 48 hours, the story had escaped the thicket more comprehensively than the pigs had. ITN sent a crew. NBC sent a crew. Japanese television dispatched a helicopter. The Daily Mail installed a reporter in Malmesbury essentially full-time. Every national paper carried daily updates on the Tamworth Two, named after Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which is what happens when a nation is trying to work out how to describe two pigs who had outwitted an entire abattoir staff. A woman thought she saw them in her rhubarb. A man was certain they'd crossed his lawn at dawn. A postman swore he'd made eye contact with one of them near a bus stop. In the thicket, Butch and Sundance were doing none of these things. They were asleep in the mud wallow, occasionally emerging to eat something, before returning to the wallow. On day four, the owner was interviewed on national television and stated, somewhat tactlessly, that if recaptured the pigs would still be going to slaughter. The nation, briefly, lost its composure. The Daily Mail, sensing a story of the sort that does not come around twice in a career, stepped in and bought both pigs from their owner in exchange for exclusive rights. The bidding, it was reported, had reached £15,000 by the time he cracked. The pigs were now, legally and commercially, Daily Mail property. This was probably the only time in recorded history that being purchased by the Daily Mail constituted a happy ending. Butch was captured on 15 January, foraging in the garden of a local couple who had popped out to the shed and found a pig in their flowerbed. Sundance, sister now gone, made a break for the thicket again. He held out one more day. He was flushed from cover by two springer spaniels and darted by the RSPCA. The first dart bounced off. This was worth remarking on at the time. Veterinary examination later revealed that Sundance was in fact half wild boar, which explained both the thick skin and the week-long refusal to co-operate with any human institution. He was eventually subdued. He was not pleased about it. The pair were transferred to the Rare Breeds Centre near Ashford in Kent, with the Daily Mail covering their upkeep. A generous enclosure. A large wallow. A woodland run that Sundance, in particular, approved of. And there they lived. Butch was the boss. Her keeper described her as a grump who could move fast when she felt like it and had strong opinions about who was allowed near her breakfast. Sundance, free at last of any agenda, became extraordinarily mellow. He spent his days wallowing. He lay in the sun. He greeted visitors with a sort of detached amiability that suggested he had thought about life and found it, on balance, acceptable. They lived together for twelve more years. Butch died in October 2010, aged 13. Sundance was quieter after she went. He had been in her company since the day he was born. He carried on for seven more months, pottering along, and was put down in May 2011 after his arthritis worsened beyond comfort. They were buried in a quiet corner of the Rare Breeds Centre. Two young pigs, on a cold January morning in Wiltshire, decided they were not going to do the thing everybody had planned for them to do. They squeezed under a fence. They swam a river. They held out long enough that the entire country stopped what it was doing and paid attention. And when it was all over, they went on to live twelve more years in a Kentish paddock, visited by the occasional tourist, neither of them with any idea that they had briefly been the most famous fugitives on the planet. They would not have cared if you'd told them. They cared about the wallow. They cared about each other. That was enough.

It’s not even 9am, & Starmer has been thrown under the bus by Trump, Miliband and by proxy, his own Deputy, David Lammy. All before Olly Robbins has uttered a single word. The end is nigh…