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“No Longer shall my Heart be Quiet “

Chapter 4:    Tankman Tommy Robinson

Bellowing bold defiance at the top of his lungs, the protester balanced precariously on top of the Downing Street gates. Behind and below him, a sea of faces cheered him on. Patriots waved St George flags.
Hastily prepared placards said it all:

# FREE TOMMY

# FREE THE TRUTH TELLER – FREE TOMMY

People chanted. People clapped. People felt.
Raw. Indignation.

The pale blue dot, our small, feeling home in the immense void of the Universe, continued its journey around the sun. A passing Alien, kindly disposed towards primitive Life perhaps, might delay his journey, and stop off to check on the emerging civilization there. He might carefully observe for a while, and feel sorry for us.

Still a long way to go to Type One civilization. If you ever make it that far…

He might note the date, easily tapping into our primitive, planet wide, Internet-Mind-Link, and follow our polemics, our divisions and our hatreds. And shake his energy field, sadly, quickly moving on.

What happened to all our friend and spokesman, Tommy Robinson, after that sad date, written in infamy and Government ruthlessness, of May 25th 2018, is another story.
But what happened on that date, the spontaneous feelings of so many people, young and old, working class and professionals, united in the sense of outraged disgust at brute Government tyranny, the sense of betrayal by an uncaring Colossus in Power…

…would be quietly observed by many Historians as an inflection point.

A strange tipping point, if you like, when the scales fall from a gentle people’s eyes.
When revealed, in the full light of Ugly, Sordid Truth, they finally see, the oncoming Juggernaut that wishes only to crush them. The armored tank that cares not for the peaceful occupants of Tiananmen Square. Listens not to their cries. Cares not. That just rolls on.
That day, later Historians argued, when Tankman Tommy calmly, almost serenely, resolutely faced down the monstrous Juggernaut, just like his Chinese predecessor, armed only with the Truth that his people knew to be the Truth, and that day, when he was summarily whisked away, locked up, never to be seen again that day or the next, furiously embittered many good men.

It is said that retired men of former violence, all over the world, sat up that day. And that something happened in their hearts. That these men represented, oddly, different, opposing sides to former conflicts. Now, to become united with former sworn enemies, to combat Government tyranny and genocidal invasion.
Courtesy of a British Government that hopelessly betrayed the trust of its own people.

Irony.

What occurred that day within these men? A hardening perhaps, a setting of the mouth. A clinical coldness.

Ah…

A knowing. What, regrettably, had to be done.

*               *                   *                       *

Studying the computer screen, alone in his study, one such man is said to have made an encrypted call to another. Who called another. Who met with three others. Who…

It seemed even to them a great irony, that the British Government, for whom they had little to no respect, should see fit to embark on a previously already failed policy. A policy of internment without trial, or internment based on flimsy evidence. A policy of massive Media distortion, and outrageous lies. A policy of bullying and threats, and of turning a deaf ear to the legitimate grievances of the people. Which only acted as a magnificent recruiter tool. That turned peaceful men. Into one of the most dedicated, well organized paramilitary groups ever.

It is said that some of these men had mellowed, and were wiser. That they had regrets. Nightmares, even. That they had buried too many of their comrades. But that the day of May 25th, 2018 changed their hesitance. Tripped. The deadly switch.

It is said that from that day onward, preparations for civil war accelerated dramatically. That the process of re-armament, already begun, received  a tremendous boost. A massive inflow. Of new, embittered recruits.

So. They had carried off the Tankman. A wiggy judge, all full of himself, standing at the window laughing, had solved the British Government’s problem in a oner. Silenced vox populi. Right?

Surprise. Not. Peaceful didn’t work, guys.

Pah.

Maybe, it never could.