I really didn’t know what to expect when I set off for the Unite the Kingdom (UTK) rally two weeks ago in London. I had heard rumours the event would be hijacked by those intent on fomenting trouble and violence. Friends and family were contacting me, urging me to take the utmost care. When I arrived at Halifax railway station, I honestly believed there would be one or perhaps two fellow travellers en route to the capital.
Therefore, it was more than a pleasant surprise when a small group of 11 people had already gathered and were waiting for the 7.12 Grand Central service to King’s Cross. They saw I was appropriately attired for the event, so naturally were keen to engage in conversation. I asked them how many they expected to be present, given the negative coverage from the mainstream media. The average guess was around a quarter of a million people. When the train pulled in from Bradford, almost packed to the rafters with fellow attendees (Union flags, St George flags and assorted clothing, badges, etc. are a bit of a giveaway), I had a gut feeling this was going to be a vastly different day from the one foreordained by the likes of the BBC or Sky.
Upon arrival at King’s Cross, I headed via the Thameslink service to Blackfriars. We’d been told the muster point was at the eastern end of Stamford Street on the South Bank around 11am, so accessing that street via Blackfriars Bridge was the most appropriate route. The bridge was already thronging with rally supporters and by the time I reached Stamford Street at 11.10, the thoroughfare was jammed with literally thousands of fellow patriots. The march to Whitehall, not scheduled to begin until 1pm, meant a lot of standing around on some increasingly aching feet. At this point, I had no idea how many of us there were. I couldn’t see further than around 50 yards in either direction.
When 1pm came around, we began to saunter towards our final destination, which was to be along Whitehall at Horse Guards Parade. Stages had been erected there so that speeches could be given by various political and internet celebs such as Ben Habib, Elon Musk, Katie Hopkins, Adam Brooks and Tommy Robinson. We moved slowly along Stamford Street, past Waterloo where Dougie Beattie of GB News looked to be the only TV journalist present. By the time we made it halfway across Westminster Bridge, it was well after 2.30. Suddenly, the march was stopped by the Metropolitan Police and a certain degree of protest then went up from the crowd, as it was assumed we had been halted for political purposes. Not a bit of it! We had, in fact, been stopped for our own safety. So large were the numbers at the UTK rally, it was subsequently confirmed to us that the police had stopped us moving further towards Parliament Square to avoid another Hillsborough-type disaster. That meant Whitehall, Parliament Square and Westminster Bridge had already reached maximum human capacity. As we stood there on the bridge, I got talking to ‘Jeff from Cwmbran’, who had travelled a comparable distance to myself to make his presence felt. A few yards away another gentlemen (who sounded like he came from my own neck of the woods) received a call from his friend who was still trying to get across Blackfriars Bridge, but was struggling to move because of the rally numbers all the way back there!
Let’s examine what that means. I grew up in London and have a pretty good idea of distances within the capital. What I have described above is a solid street-wide phalanx of people stretching from Blackfriars Bridge, all the way along Stamford Street, back over Westminster Bridge, the entirety of Parliament Square, and then three-quarters of the way down Whitehall to Horse Guards Parade. I would say that’s a distance of at least 2.5 miles. Is the mainstream media seriously trying to tell us that only 150,000 people attended? (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cwydezxl0xlo) If I was to hazard a guess I’d say there were at least a million, and probably more. The rally organisers had even hired their own helicopter to take aerial footage because they were so sceptical of any negative spin the legacy media would put on the numbers in attendance. How’s that for winning the confidence of the public?
To bypass the enormous crowds, I shuffled my way back across Westminster Bridge, down The Queen’s Walk in front of County Hall, then back over the Thames via one of the Golden Jubilee Bridges that run alongside the railway lines to Charing Cross. An attempt the reach Horse Guards Parade via Northumberland Avenue was thwarted, as police lines were there separating the small gathering of Left-wing ghouls they had shepherded at the bottom of Trafalgar Square to within spitting distance of our rally. Why the Met should think it prudent to have diametrically-opposing groups cheek-by-jowl escapes me. Unless, of course, the intention was to provoke violence which could subsequently be crushed by the cops as an applauding media and political class gazed approvingly via the medium of their television screens. It was then I gave up hope of reaching the celebrities gathered to give their speeches, and I took the Tube up to Piccadilly to get an eagerly-anticipated meal at the Hard Rock Cafe.
Saturday, September 13th was a triumph. It was a triumph in terms of the numbers present. It was a triumph in terms of the low number of arrests (25 arrests out of an estimated 1 million – 17 of those coming from the ‘happy-clappy, all-loving’ Left). Above all, it was a triumph in terms of the messages given loud and clear: Namely that the vast majority of the British people are beyond exasperated with the cruel experiment of mass uncontrolled immigration into this country; that we will not be silenced as an alliance of politicians, charities, NGOs and civic bodies club together to force this demographic replacement upon us; and that we are utterly determined that it will stop one way or the other. For years, the British working class has been mute in the face of slurs, condescension, and deliberate neglect. 2025 marks the year when millions of us found our voices in opposition to this madness. There’s no going back now.
