If you want to see irony at its finest then I give you Glastonbury 2025.
A festival so "free-spirited" it’s surrounded by a 13ft fence, armed security, ID checks, and its own holding pen for border breaches. All run by the very people who tell the rest of us "borders are racist."
Pay £380-a-head tickets for the privileged few to play revolution, sipping oat lattes in £1,000 bell tents while chanting "From the river to the sea"—a call for Jewish genocide—and calling anyone who questions them a Nazi.
The same crowd cheering Hamas, who invaded Israel on 7/10, murdering over a thousand civilians—many of them peace-loving communists in kibbutzim, and young people at a music festival, just like this one.
These self-proclaimed pacifists cheer for religious fascists who literally dragged women through the streets and beheaded civilians. But sure, let’s hold hands and blame “colonialism.”
They claim to be anti-capitalist, while spending £millions to throw a week-long rave on farmland.
They produce over 2,000 tonnes of waste—the equivalent of 250 double-decker buses of garbage—then wave Extinction Rebellion flags and tell working-class Brits to give up meat and heating.
They scream “Down with the patriarchy!” while defending the most misogynistic religion on Earth, where women can’t vote, drive, or leave the house without permission—and that's before we get to the stoning and FGM.
They demand veganism, while celebrating halal slaughter.
They wave Pride flags, then shout “Inshallah”, defending regimes where gay men are hanged, lesbians are raped, and trans people disappear.
They’re the first to cry “Nazi” at anyone with a different opinion, but not one of them has marched for the slaughtered Christians of Nigeria, the persecuted women of Iran, the oppressed minorities of Syria, or the ethnic cleansing in Armenia.
Their “tolerance” only extends to those who agree with them. Their “compassion” ends where their values begin.
It’s a delusional playground for champagne socialists, fuelled by ignorance, narcissism, and biodegradable glitter.
Just sing your silly little songs, zip up your designer tents, and fuck off home. You’re not warriors. You’re tourists.
