For those wondering if the United Kingdom’s public discourse could get any more… spirited, Richard Littlejohn’s latest column on Waqya.com arrives with the subtlety of a foghorn on a quiet Tuesday, questioning whether Britain is lost amidst a tangle of immigration woes and questionable government decisions regarding **Tax**.
Published by the *Daily Mail*, Littlejohn’s piece is less an interview and more a rhetorical broadside, a self-declared “I told you so” manifesto on the state of the nation. It lands squarely in a political climate where migration, national sovereignty, and the efficacy of government policy are perennially fraught. The columnist, writing with his signature blend of alarm and indignation, positions himself as the weary prophet, reminding readers of warnings issued last October about the premature celebrations over closing migrant hotels. This is not a discussion; it’s a pronouncement, delivered from the high pulpit of a popular national newspaper, aimed squarely at a public already feeling the pinch and perhaps, the fear.
What landed
Littlejohn’s column packs a considerable punch by foregrounding a series of anecdotes designed to illustrate a nation teetering on the brink. He asserts, quite dramatically, that the government’s October announcement about closing migrant hotels was a hollow victory, a point he attributes to his own prescient analysis at the time. He then leaps to the idea of “tax-free new-builds for migrants,” a phrase designed to raise eyebrows and hackles, implying a profound misallocation of national resources. The core of his argument seems to be that the government is not just failing to manage immigration, but actively creating perverse incentives, all while the average British citizen feels increasingly overlooked.
He marshals a series of vivid, almost cinematic examples: the alleged “godfather” of people smuggling operating a vape shop in Leicester, for instance, which certainly paints a picture of systemic failure and brazen disregard for law and order. Then there’s the truly unsettling claim that Britain cannot deport a “grooming gang kingpin,” a statement calculated to provoke outrage and underscore a perceived impotence of the state. These individual vignettes, whether fully substantiated or presented as indicative truths, are strung together to create a narrative of a nation losing control, where the “rules” seem to apply selectively, and often not to those who, in Littlejohn’s view, ought to be held accountable. His delivery is less about nuanced policy critique and more about a visceral reaction to what he frames as an unfolding national disaster.
What doesn’t add up
While Littlejohn excels at painting a grim picture, the column, perhaps by design, offers more lament than actionable analysis. His “I told you so” framing implies a clear-eyed foresight, yet the complexities of migration, international law, and domestic policy rarely yield simple answers or binary outcomes. The shift from “migrant hotels” to “tax-free new-builds” is presented as a straightforward escalation, but the mechanics, the specific policies, and the *actual* tax implications for the average Briton remain largely in the realm of implication rather than detailed exposition. It’s an effective rhetorical leap, certainly, but one that leaves the reader to connect some rather large dots on their own.
There’s also a recurring tension between his despairing tone and any suggestion of solutions. If the nation is truly “lost” and the government so utterly feckless, what then? The column provides no real pathway forward, only a deepening sense of dread. One might also question the utility of presenting such stark, isolated cases—a vape shop owner here, a deportation struggle there—as irrefutable proof of a comprehensive national collapse. While these examples are undoubtedly concerning, their broader statistical significance and the wider context of governmental efforts (however flawed) are largely absent. It’s a powerful narrative, yes, but one that perhaps prioritises emotional impact over a balanced, detailed assessment of the challenges and potential interventions, leaving little room for anything other than a shared sense of impending doom.
What changes Monday morning? Probably not the vape shop in Leicester, nor the complexities of international deportation agreements. But Littlejohn’s column certainly ensures that the feeling of a nation struggling with its identity and its borders will remain firmly lodged in the public consciousness, a persistent, uncomfortable itch that no amount of rhetoric seems capable of scratching away. The conversation around who pays what **Tax**, and for whom, will undoubtedly continue to generate more heat than light.
Source: OnTheRecord