Acne on its way to Liverpool

Matthew Collins - 10 08 15
First published: 10 August 2015

There was much stomping around bedrooms yesterday when National Acne took issue with a story about themselves in the Daily Mirror.

One of their naughty number had written to the Mayor of Liverpool promising a race riot if their nylon-clad march through the city this weekend does not go ahead.

Like all good art-projects, National Action keep an online scrap book of all their publicity. But only the stuff they can show their mums.

They might tell their mums and their chums that they are a cutting edge gang of Aryan warriors, but the reality-the more this group unravels- is more like a case of ‘The Orphans’ as told in a certain Walter Hill film.

And so, with this letter not having been approved by the kid who failed philosophy and the double glazing salesman who is sickly and bed- bound whilst searching the internet for skin flicks, there was angry rage. White rage, too:

“At no point have we been contacted by this piece of shit journalist or asked to comment on the authenticity of this letter. We demand all news outlets redact or put reasonable uncertainty on the assertion that this message came from our group, please have some ethics.”

Interestingly, Ben Raymond, who wrote this angry piece on his art folder/website originally spelt ethics as ‘ethnics’, perhaps a reference to the demise of Bryony Burton, the eligible Fraulein of their number who has allegedly run away with a man not of the right colour? Freudian slip, even? You know what they say lads, once she’s gone there, she ain’t coming back, either.

The anger was not at the promise of a race war and racial attacks, it was that Raymond would be the one to face prosecution for sending such a letter were the Mayor of Liverpool to report it to the police.

As the case of Zack Davies proved, National Action prefer poor, idiotic souls like Zack to carry out racist attacks and mindless bed-sit (shite) poets like the heartbroken Garron Helm to send horrible missives on their behalf.

All actual acts or threats of violence are to be carried out or promised from a safe distance so that these two can stay safely under the bed covers when the police come knocking. That’s how class politics plays out in revolutionary movements, eh lads?

I’m actually inclined to say this march should go ahead. Not because I think National Action should have rights to abuse free speech on the streets of the fine city of Liverpool, but mainly, because their real danger is on the internet. On the streets, they regularly take a battering from their own side. They took an absolute battering off the English Defence League (EDL) in Rotherham last month (as they did the year before) and the National Front wants nothing to do with them, because they are just “silly little children.”

But naughty kids they are. Who knows how many will join their march in Liverpool? It won’t be many, and many who do attend will only do so because that is what naughty kids do.

The core of the group is absolutely tiny-in mind and stature. At their Newcastle demo back in March, they spent two days just rehearsing walking down the steps and standing with their hands on their tender hips whilst shouting provocative nonsense into thin air. They then left the scene of their provocation and idiots from the National Front had to fight their way out for the others.

Even the white Delia Smith hates them

The leaders of the group, all with their faces covered and their hairs nicely combed stood around looking about as menacing as a carrot as they promised all kinds of hell raising. But don’t be fooled as some have, into thinking these are some kind of well-drilled politically and physically, Nazi strikeforce. They couldn’t actually tell the difference between a Strasserite or an expensive violin. Not only have the EDL twice put them on their delicate, powdered bottoms, militant antifascists have actually lost count of how many times they have too.

These lads, impish and almost gimpish, will not be the real bother in the long run. While they walk and talk with ladies knickers and stockings covering their faces, it is the poor gormless morons (like Zack Davies) standing with half eaten cigarettes hanging out of the sides of out of their filthy mouths that they want to carry out their dirty deeds.

Raymond, the challenged (but not challenging) brain who runs and documents every silly thing done by the gang, merely fronts the group on behalf of a couple of rich men in London, who seem to get some kind of satisfaction watching young men running around with flags, heavy belts and uniform.

Poor mugs like this will pay the price

Their march in Liverpool will be tiny. And the good people there are bound to, no doubt, see their clean heels at some stage during the afternoon. Maybe the police should do everyone a favour and enact the law that prohibits people wearing paramilitary uniforms in public and show everyone the faces of the cowards who encourage others to do their dirty deeds.


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