The New British Union of Fascists, a tiny bunch of wannabe Black-shirts with an ‘action-man style’ uniform fetish are making a bid for big-boy status. Like brave little soldiers trying not to cry on the way to the dentist these Dad’s army refugees are soon to put their collective heads straight into the lion’s mouth. They’re off to Bristol!
In some towns the fash can muster a small amount of local support. Most are indifferent to them, seeing them only as an inconvenient obstruction to be avoided whenever possible. But some…
Towns like Bristol have a long history of running the far right out of town. They’ve seen neo-nazis of various stripes from the BNP and NF to the EDL and countless other sad groups of fash literally run in terror from Bristol’s #Antifa. It’s such a well-established tradition that Bristol parents are developing a fash-themed version of ‘Whack-a-mole’ to introduce their children to the habit.
This is the place where a miniscule group of uniformed, beer-gutted, middle-aged men (who are definitely past their prime) plan to prove how hard they are. For some unfathomable reason their Fuhrer, Gary “Blakey” Raikes thinks Bristol is the place to be. We think he might not have though this through.
What could possibly go wrong?