We Account – Manifesto
We Account – Manifesto
You can’t build a future
if the ground beneath you was never poured.
Children in crumbling schools.
Nurses in food banks.
Parents raising kids while working 12-hour shifts, commuting two hours each way.
Communities with no library, no safe space, no gathering place.
People scraping through a system that was never built to catch them—only to manage the fallout when they fall.
We are not rebuilding a broken society.
We are building the one we never had.
We Account isn’t just a list of policies.
It’s a recognition that the basics were never secured:
We were handed scaffolding and slogans—
not a real society.
And then blamed for falling through the gaps.
From RAAC concrete collapses to classroom overcrowding, children are being taught in buildings older than their grandparents—held together by duct tape and hope.
Why?
You can’t teach kids to thrive in buildings that are unsafe, uninspiring, and unsupported.
This isn’t bad luck. It’s policy.
This isn’t wear and tear. It’s neglect.
We are not “tired.”
We are underbuilt.
And we are done patching up the mess left by governments who couldn’t be bothered to lay the first brick.
A society without foundation will collapse.
A future without foundation will never begin.
We Account.
This isn’t a party.
This is a reckoning.
You were told society would protect you.
It didn’t.
We are here to fix that.
If you are in a position of public responsibility—
a manager, an official, a councillor, a commissioner—
and you’ve allowed negligence, cruelty, or corruption…
We Account.
If you greenwashed your crimes with shiny words,
if you hid behind bureaucracy,
if you passed blame down the chain—
We Account.
Climate policy will be written by actual climate scientists.
Economic policy by people who understand economics.
Law, ethics, and justice?
We’re learning faster than your cover-ups can hide.
We are citizens.
We are watching.
We remember.
And we do not forgive silence.
This is a movement of truth, dignity, and public duty.
Not left. Not right. Just right.
You don’t get to lie and call it politics.
We Account.
I’ve started something big.
It’s called We Account—a movement built on truth, justice, and rebuilding what society was supposed to protect.
But I’m not here to speak over people.
I’m here to listen.
To learn.
To build a manifesto that includes every voice this country keeps ignoring.
If any of the following issues tug at your heart—or if you’ve lived through them first-hand:
Please contact me.
I’m looking for real voices to help shape something real.
Not policy fluff. Not empty promises.
Just truth—raw and unfiltered.
You can remain anonymous. You don’t need to write essays. Even a short message helps.
If you've ever thought,
“No one in politics speaks for me.”
Now’s your chance to change that.
Let’s build something better.
We Account.
Contact me:
tobylazarus@yahoo.com
Democracy isn’t just about voting once every few years.
It’s about power being visible, trackable, and removable.
Right now, public officials can lie, fail, or cause real harm—and keep their jobs.
That’s not democracy.
That’s untouchable hierarchy—and it breeds neglect, cruelty, and impunity.
We believe every person in public office should face the same scrutiny any ordinary worker would—and more.
You make decisions that affect millions? Then you answer to millions.
A system without real accountability will keep producing tragedy.
We’ve seen it already—
Each time?
“We’re sorry.”
“Lessons will be learned.”
Then nothing changes.
No sackings. No trials. No justice.
We don’t accept apologies.
We don’t accept delay.
We Account.
“Democracy isn’t a tradition. It’s a tool. If it no longer serves the people—it’s time to redesign it.”
First Past the Post (FPTP) isn’t inherently evil.
It’s just dangerously outdated.
Yes—it can stop extremist parties from seizing control with low vote shares.
But it also:
It’s a voting system designed for empire-era simplicity—
Not for a diverse, complex, and multiparty society in crisis.
Critics of proportional representation (PR) call it messy.
Too many parties. Too much compromise. Too little clarity.
But here’s the truth:
That “mess” is democracy.
PR means listening. Negotiating. Representing.
It means power is shared, not hoarded.
It means no more “one-size-fits-none” politics.
In dozens of constituencies, the outcome is known before the first vote is cast.
Your ballot becomes theatre—not power.
And silence breeds apathy.
We need a system where every vote counts—not just in swing seats, but everywhere.
"This isn’t about the left or the right.
It’s about building a system where your voice matters—no matter who you are, or where you live."
If Reform wants to fight for votes, let them.
But let it be under fair rules, where no one wins by rigging the board.
This isn’t about silencing opposition.
It’s about designing a democracy where everyone gets a shot—without buying the referee.
Because democracy isn’t just about having a vote.
It’s about having a vote that counts.
We Account—digitally, daily, and undeniably.
We vote every few years and call it power.
But behind the scenes?
This isn’t democracy.
It’s illusion management.
We digitised taxes.
We digitised parking tickets.
We even digitised sanctions on benefits.
But when it comes to:
…it’s radio silence.
Digital democracy means:
If it affects the public, the public sees it.
Let’s talk about actual engagement:
This isn’t tech for tech’s sake.
It’s tech for truth’s sake.
If you:
You should be exposed. In real time. With consequences.
The Magna Carta was signed by a monarch.
So if the Crown gave us rights, then the Crown must answer for how they’re being upheld.
“I’ll shake the King’s hand. But the next day?
I’ll barrage him with so many constitutional requests,
he’ll flee barefoot into the street screaming about FOI deadlines.”
If you wear the crown, you carry the contract.
We support innovation—with conditions:
Potential is not permission.
And trust must be built in public.
Democracy isn’t analogue anymore.
And transparency isn’t a trend.
It’s a right.
We Account.
This Isn’t a Democracy. It’s a Corporate Takeover.
You didn’t vote for them.
You don’t know their names.
But they sit in every meeting.
They whisper in ministers’ ears.
They draft the very laws meant to hold them back.
They don’t run for office—
Because they already run everything else.
They call it lobbying.
We call it a hostile occupation of our democracy.
While you're stuck on hold with your GP,
they’re wining and dining the Department of Health.
While you're begging your MP for help,
they’re writing policy over cocktails in a private suite.
If I want to change a law, I’m a radical.
If a corporation wants to do it, it’s called “market input.”
It's the think tanks with fake neutrality.
The ministers with side hustles.
The private contracts handed to donors.
The media silence bought by “advertorials.”
And the worst part?
Most of it is legal.
Because the corrupt write the rules.
If a corporation can get more face-time with your government than you can,
you’re not living in a democracy.
You’re living in a rented state.
And we?
We’re here to evict the tenants.
We Account.
They don’t carry guns—
They carry pens.
Polished, gold,
Filled not with ink,
But with promises.
They don’t storm the gates—
They sponsor the guard.
Their bullets are briefings,
Their targets are laws,
And their uniforms come with a tie.
You thought power wore a crown.
It wears cufflinks.
You thought corruption looked like theft.
It looks like a handshake—
and a contract you’ll never see.
But behind every sewage-choked river,
every train that doesn’t run,
every ward that’s understaffed,
there is a man with a spreadsheet,
a minister with a dinner to attend,
and a name you will never know.
We Account for them now.
The UK Is Not a Monolith
It’s not one voice.
It’s many.
It’s mountains and markets, moors and motorways, seaside towns and inner cities.
So why do we still govern it like it’s just London with countryside?
The UK is run like a centralised factory—
Yet we’re a patchwork of communities, with wildly different needs.
We call it “efficient,”
but it’s really just disconnection in a suit.
You can’t manage Welsh flooding from a Whitehall office.
You can’t heal Scottish forests with English policy.
And you can’t rebuild forgotten northern towns with southern spreadsheets.
Devolution isn’t about division.
It’s about precision.
We don’t just want power devolved.
We want trust devolved.
That means:
We demand the right to self-determine within a united nation—
Not as a threat, but as a strength.
Councils are tasked with:
This isn’t delegation. It’s abandonment.
Austerity didn’t shrink the state.
It shrunk accountability.
We say: Fund the frontline. Let local leaders lead.
"You shouldn’t need a minister’s postcode to be seen.
We Account—from the corner shop to the cabinet."
They call us “remote.”
But we’re the ones who stay.
They call us “rural.”
But we grow the food they waste.
They call us “the regions.”
But we are the nation.
They forget us.
So we remember each other.
Because when London stops listening,
We speak louder.
Because when lies are profitable and truth gets buried—freedom is already dead.
We’re told the media is a “pillar of democracy.”
But what happens when that pillar rots from within?
What we have today is not a free press.
It’s a propaganda machine with a PR department.
If a qualified doctor gave you false advice and you died—
they’d face serious consequences.
If a qualified journalist spreads disinformation that causes real harm?
Nothing.
No fine. No firing.
Sometimes? A promotion.
If you knowingly lie to the public—
especially to incite hate, protect power, or profit from fear—
there must be legal accountability.
Not just fines.
Prison.
Misinformation is no longer just an error.
It’s a tool of political warfare:
This isn’t bad reporting.
It’s truth sabotage.
We don’t let just anyone prescribe medicine.
We don’t let just anyone build bridges.
So why do we let anyone with a column rewrite reality?
Real journalism must be:
We don’t fear a free press.
We fear a fraudulent one.
6 billionaires own 80% of the UK media.
What do you think gets published?
When profit depends on outrage, and headlines come before facts—
you don’t have journalism.
You have a clickbait dictatorship.
And don’t forget the revolving door between politicians, press officers, and editors.
They don’t report power.
They are power.
If truth dies, democracy dies with it.
And right now?
They’re both on life support—while the media cashes in.
No more fake neutrality. No more manufactured ignorance. No more silence for sale.
We’re not coming for freedom of speech.
We’re coming for freedom from deceit.
We Account.
The UK isn’t broke.
It’s being looted—from the top down.
Public services are collapsing while wealth piles up like rot behind the walls.
They say there’s “no money.”
We say: show us the ledgers.
This isn’t about envy.
I’m not against people being paid well—if they do their job well.
If you’re managing missing children, or handling crisis after crisis, that job might demand a high salary.
But what are we paying for—responsibility, or immunity?
Because here’s what happens now:
People at the top fail upward.
They cause harm, chaos, or neglect—and still walk away richer than most of us will ever be.
That’s not reward for service. That’s payment for silence.
There’s no reason a nurse should go hungry while a banker buys his fifth home.
There’s no reason a child should live in damp housing while Amazon pays zero tax.
There’s no reason a country that made billionaires possible should be told we “can’t afford” clean water, fair wages, or safe homes.
They took from the people.
Now the people will take back.
We Account.
It’s Not About Who Owns the Pipes—It’s About Who Gets Covered in Shit When They Burst
We’ve heard it all.
But here’s the truth:
It’s not ownership that saves rivers—it’s accountability.
And right now, nobody’s accountable.
They promised:
We got:
But dividends?
They run like clockwork.
Nationalisation can work.
But not if it's just bureaucracy in a different suit.
What matters is:
With private companies, they fail you, bill you, and walk away.
With public ones?
At least we’ve got the power to fight back.
We’re not just calling for public ownership.
We’re demanding public control.
This isn’t about public vs private.
It’s about who’s allowed to poison our rivers, raise our bills, fail our trains—
and still get paid.
No more.
We Account.
“I didn’t fail the system.
The system failed me.
And I promise you this—
No one else should be punished for trying to survive.”
I worked. I saved.
Not just for me.
I was building a family home. A future. A place of safety.
And then—illness hit.
But I had “too much” saved to qualify for help.
So I watched my savings drain.
Bit by bit. Week by week.
By the time the system admitted I was “poor enough” to matter—
the house was gone.
The future? Written off.
All because I did what we’re told to do:
Work hard. Save. Plan.
And the system punished me for surviving too long without asking for help.
We’re sold the myth that poverty is personal failure.
But here’s the truth:
You can work full-time and still go hungry.
You can save for years and lose it all in one diagnosis.
This isn’t poverty.
It’s economic cruelty by design.
This isn’t support.
It’s a gauntlet designed to keep people out.
We don’t just need enough to stay alive.
We need the means to rebuild.
To heal. To breathe.
Poverty doesn’t go away by telling people to “get a job.”
It ends when people are given what they need to stand back up.
Dignity isn’t a reward.
It’s a right.
You shouldn’t have to lose everything just to prove you need help.
You shouldn’t be punished for surviving a little too long.
And you should never be left alone to fall.
We Account.
This section is currently in development.
Here, we will showcase a series of fully costed policy proposals—each with real data, impact projections, funding sources, and long-term strategic benefits.
From NHS savings to food system reform, from housing justice to education welfare checks—this will be the blueprint that proves radical change isn’t just necessary…
It’s possible. It’s affordable. And it’s overdue.
Coming soon.
The NHS isn’t a burden.
It’s the beating heart of this nation.
And right now?
It’s being bled dry—starved, sold off, and sabotaged.
Waiting lists stretch into oblivion.
People die waiting.
Clinicians burn out.
And those responsible? Still sitting in office, still cashing paychecks.
We say: no more.
The NHS must be restored—not rebranded, not restructured—restored.
The NHS isn’t just a service.
It’s a moral contract.
A promise we made to each other:
If you are in pain, you will not be left behind.
But we’ve broken that promise.
People are dying in corridors.
Ambulances take hours—or never come.
Pregnant women are left to bleed alone.
A man was found dead under a coat in a corridor, because there were no beds to put him in.
That’s not just a crisis.
That’s a damning indictment of a system that’s been deliberately gutted by those in power—and then blamed on those still holding it together.
It’s time to honour the promise again.
Not with platitudes.
Not with applause.
With action. With funding. With justice.
We Account.
“Name an abuse—
And I’ve probably survived it.”
Yes, people are dying.
Yes, they’re being left on waiting lists, shuffled between crisis lines, or ignored completely.
But you already know that.
So let me say it plainly:
Name an abuse—and I’ve probably survived it.
I’ve lived through what this system does to people.
I’ve lived through what it did to me.
And I’m telling you—
Things. Are. Going. To. Change.
Therapy today is rationed like bottled water in a desert.
We’re told to “reach out”—and then left waiting months.
Medications are handed out like sticking plasters. No follow-up.
Diagnoses are delivered without understanding.
And the second your crisis ends, so does your care.
This isn’t support.
This is crisis management, disguised as compassion.
From disabled teens to traumatised adults, to lonely elders—
social care is a lifeline that we pretend exists.
Until we need it.
Behind the polished press releases?
There’s no safety net.
Just frayed rope.
I’ve survived the system.
But I’m not here to survive anymore.
I’m here to make sure no one else has to live through what I did—alone.
One day you’re working, parenting, laughing, moving.
The next?
This isn’t aging with dignity.
It’s neglect with a polite face.
Meanwhile?
All while politicians smile for photo ops at “silver economy” conferences.
Growing old is not an economic burden.
It’s a human story.
And we’ve stopped reading it.
Most don’t fear death.
They fear:
People don’t just want care.
They want connection.
They want choice.
They want the right to matter—until the very end.
“Growing old is not a failure.
It’s a privilege.
And every person deserves to be held with dignity—
Until the very last breath.”
I’m not rich.
But I manage.
I adapt, I survive—and maybe I’ve got a few decades left before this policy becomes personal.
But this isn’t about me.
It’s about the old woman I know—
Paralysed by Parkinson’s.
Her mind fraying under Lewy Bodies.
And she’s been begging to die for years.
She’s not suicidal.
She’s suffering.
She’s stuck.
Too afraid of death to go alone.
Too forgotten to find peace.
That’s not rest.
That’s torment.
Some people imagine palliative care as peaceful.
But what about the ones:
One family said it best:
“They were coughing up cancer. Coughing up blood.
Begging to die.
And nobody did anything.”
That line broke something in me.
Because there is no excuse, no reform, no “debate” that justifies standing by and calling that care.
This isn’t a manifesto entry.
It’s a promise to never again let anyone disappear quietly.
This is We Account.
For the ones who are still here.
And the ones who died waiting. 🖤
Domestic abuse isn’t just about bruises.
It’s about:
Abuse is a system of control,
often invisible to those outside—
and dismissed by those in power until it's too late.
Try leaving with:
And when you do find a space at a refuge?
That’s not justice.
That’s survival as punishment.
A women’s refuge isn’t a luxury.
It’s an emergency exit.
It’s the reason people survive long enough to rebuild.
You don’t go there for shelter.
You go because you’re at the end of the line—
and for once, you’re choosing yourself.
“Leaving should not feel like the most dangerous decision of your life.
But for many, it still is.”
We Account for every cry that went unanswered.
For every body that never made it out.
For every survivor rebuilding from nothing.
And we promise this:
You will never be invisible again.
Domestic abuse isn’t just about bruises.
It’s about:
Abuse is a system of control—often invisible to those outside, and dismissed by those in power until it's too late.
But it doesn’t stop at the front door.
Violence is everywhere—and far too often, safety is nowhere.
For too many, fear is a daily condition of survival.
You shouldn’t have to:
Violence isn’t just crime.
It’s power abused, trauma ignored, and protection denied.
Try leaving with:
And when you do find a space at a refuge?
That’s not justice.
That’s survival as punishment.
And even when survivors report?
Survivors aren’t just failed by their partners.
They’re failed by the very system meant to protect them.
A women’s refuge isn’t a luxury.
It’s an emergency exit.
It’s the reason people survive long enough to rebuild.
You don’t go there for shelter.
You go because you’re at the end of the line—
and for once, you’re choosing yourself.
“Leaving should not feel like the most dangerous decision of your life.
But for many, it still is.”
Everyone deserves to walk home without rehearsing their final words.
We Account for every cry that went unanswered.
For every life lost to silence, disbelief, or delay.
For every survivor rebuilding from nothing.
And we promise this:
You will never be invisible again.
Safety is not negotiable.
Dignity is not conditional.
And freedom from fear is not optional.
We Account.
You shouldn’t need superhuman willpower just to walk down the street.
We’ve banned tobacco ads.
We’ve restricted alcohol.
But junk food? Sugar bombs? Ultra-processed sludge?
Still everywhere:
You can’t “choose health” when you’re being attacked from every direction.
And you can’t “just walk away” when the battlefield is your own brain.
Let’s stop pretending fast food and soft drinks are being marketed to adults making informed choices.
These ads target:
It’s not “temptation.”
It’s exploitation.
They profit from cravings they helped create—and call it consumer choice.
The government’s upcoming TV ban on junk food ads is a start—but it’s also:
Billboards? Exempt.
Apps? Exempt.
Sponsorship deals with influencers and sports teams? Exempt.
So who exactly are we protecting?
“I’m not asking for perfection.
I’m asking for protection.
From a system designed to keep us sick—then blame us for it.”
You won’t see the word vegan stamped across this manifesto.
Not because I’m afraid of it—
But because I’d rather show you what it means, than argue about the label.
I do not consume animals.
Not because it’s fashionable.
Not even just because it’s ethical.
But because it’s logical.
It’s better for my health—lowering risks of heart disease, obesity, cancer, and type 2 diabetes.
It’s better for the planet—cutting emissions, deforestation, and ocean collapse.
And yes—it’s better for the animals, who want to live just as much as we do.
That’s not ideology.
That’s data.
If you're wondering whether I walk the talk?
Yes.
Yes, I do.
Freedom over your body isn’t a privilege. It’s a right.
In a truly democratic society, bodily autonomy is sacred.
And yet in 2025, UK abortion law still rests on the Offences Against the Person Act 1861—a criminal statute written before women could vote, let alone speak freely about pregnancy.
This means:
If your freedom can be taken away by regulation, it was never a right.
It was a permission slip—easily revoked.
We Account calls for the full decriminalisation of abortion, and for safe, legal access to be enshrined as a protected human right.
Not as a health exemption.
Not buried in bureaucracy.
Not left vulnerable to the next culture war.
We demand:
Abortion should be treated like healthcare—because that’s exactly what it is.
A fair question. And one rooted in complexity—not propaganda.
UK law already restricts abortion beyond 24 weeks, except under Grounds E, F, or G of the 1967 Abortion Act:
Abortions after 24 weeks represent less than 0.1% of all UK abortions. These are not casual choices. They are:
And no—there is no doctor in the UK authorising abortion on the basis of gender or vague suspicion. That’s a myth, not a practice.
Late-term abortion is not legal on request in the UK.
It is rare, regulated, and traumatically difficult.
Abortions must be guided by:
We reject criminalisation and moral panic in favour of:
We don’t end harm by banning the lifeboat.
We end harm by making sure it’s there before the storm hits.
That’s not extremism.
That’s compassion.
That’s justice.
Bodily autonomy is not up for negotiation.
And freedom that must be begged for…
was never freedom at all.
Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day.
Teach him to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime.
But give a frightened girl no path, no rights,
no safety, no say—
and she may risk her life trying to claim one.
Give her a clinic, not a courtroom.
Give her care, not cruelty.
Give her the tools to choose her own future—
and she won’t have to gamble with her body just to reclaim it.
We don’t end harm by banning the lifeboat.
We end harm by making sure it’s there before the storm hits.
That’s not extremism.
That’s compassion.
That’s justice.
That’s what it means to protect life.
Bodily autonomy is not up for negotiation.
And freedom that must be begged for
was never freedom at all.
They call it a “childhood.”
But for too many, it’s a battlefield.
Some kids are beaten.
Some ignored.
Some sedated by screens and silence.
Some by drugs.
Some forced to raise themselves—or even raise their parents.
Think that’s dramatic?
Then meet the child acting as a carer because the NHS has no capacity.
The one in emotional exile because no one listens unless they scream.
Or the one stuck home for years, denied school, growth, and friends—because it’s “easier that way.”
We tell children to behave, excel, conform.
But where is the system when they’re the ones falling through the cracks?
They don’t just deserve protection.
They deserve investment. Autonomy. Respect.
But what do we offer?
We say “kids are our future” while treating them like they’re disposable in the present.
Parents are cracking under cost-of-living pressure.
Carers are drowning in unpaid labour.
Children are absorbing generational trauma before they’ve had a chance to live their own story.
Don’t ask why kids are anxious, angry, or acting out.
Ask why they’re expected to carry so much, so young, with so little support.
We talk about “the family unit” like it’s sacred.
But in reality? You often find isolation, not unity.
In towns like Harlow, if you don’t own a car and can’t afford a cinema ticket, a swim, or a train ride…
You get:
Councils repaint shopping districts
But won’t fund a single moment of joy.
A child deserves more than a father who’s rushed back to work after two weeks.
Bonding isn’t optional—it’s the foundation of empathy, trust, and secure love.
Children grow from connection.
Families thrive with time, space, and shared experience.
But our system gives them neither.
We say children are the future.
But they’re already here.
Already watching.
Already learning what kind of world we’re handing them.
If a child can feel loneliness before language…
If they can feel fear before memory…
Then we have a duty to build more than shelter.
We must build belonging.
We must build trust.
We must build families that aren’t fighting to stay whole in a system that keeps tearing them apart.
We Account.
We do not need more paperwork.
We need more protection.
We do not need more metrics.
We need more meaning.
And we do not need more excuses.
We need education that serves the child — not the institution, the algorithm, or the politician.
A Loan Isn’t an Education. It’s a Leash.
Higher education was once sold as the ladder to a better life.
But for many, it became the trapdoor to a lifetime of quiet debt.
We don’t just graduate with degrees. We graduate with:
We Account proposes:
The future shouldn’t start with debt.
It should start with dignity.
And if we want young people to build the nation—
We need to stop making them buy it back one monthly deduction at a time.
Education isn’t just about grades.
It’s about giving every child a chance to become—
To discover their potential, their strength, their spark.
But when compassion is punished and cruelty is ignored,
We don’t just fail the child.
We fail the future.
How many bright minds have we lost to bullying, boredom, or burnout?
How many children walked out of school believing they were broken—when really the system was?
If the smart, kind, and vulnerable are bullied out of school
While the cruel and aggressive graduate into power—
Then we are not failing education.
We are manufacturing injustice.
A reformed education system must do more than pass exams.
It must protect the sensitive, challenge the dominant, and empower every child—not just the loudest.
That is the only future worth building.
And we will build it.
We Account.
This is not a wish list. It’s a warning.
Workers are dying.
Being exploited.
Being broken.
The law has failed them.
We will not.
Every industrial tragedy was once a known risk.
Every “accident” was preceded by silence.
Every death was preventable—until profit made it disposable.
That ends now.
You do not own your workers.
You do not outrank their humanity.
We Account.
We are not suffering a housing crisis.
We are suffering a crisis of greed.
The homes exist.
The materials exist.
The money exists.
What’s missing is the will to put people before profit.
You cannot talk about justice while people freeze in tents.
You cannot talk about growth while children grow up in damp flats.
You cannot talk about choice while tenants live in fear of eviction for speaking out.
People are dying homeless while second homes sit empty.
Families are pushed out of their communities by AirBnB empires and landlords who see shelter as leverage.
And vulnerable people are trapped in abusive housing situations with no one to call, nowhere to go, and no law to protect them.
This is not just bad policy.
This is organised neglect.
I’ve lived in 22 different homes—not because I chose to move, but because stability was never offered.
And when I finally got a place of my own, it wasn’t safety.
It was a trap.
A dead-end that almost cost me my life.
We don’t need another market solution.
We need a moral one.
Because a home is not just a roof.
It is dignity.
It is safety.
It is the foundation of everything else we’re trying to build.
We Account.
If our children have no future, then no policy matters more than this one.
Climate change is no longer a distant threat.
It’s a rolling collapse—happening now.
Soil fertility is plummeting. Oceans are acidifying. Pollinators are vanishing.
The UK now grows just 60% of its own food—the rest arrives on fragile supply chains that climate shocks and geopolitics are already ripping apart.
This isn’t about prevention anymore.
It’s about minimising the damage, protecting the vulnerable, and making sure collapse doesn't mean extinction.
The poorest UK households now need to spend up to 70% of their disposable income to afford a healthy diet.
That’s not budgeting failure. That’s structural starvation.
We are pricing people out of life itself.
We are one missed harvest, one shipping crisis, one bad summer away from hunger.
The shelves are full because someone else’s soil is empty.
Our diets are fragile. Our pricing unjust. Our policies suicidal.
This isn’t about emissions anymore.
This is about who eats—and who doesn’t.
Who survives—and who’s sacrificed.
This is not a warning.
It’s a reckoning.
And if they won’t act?
We Account.
For decades, public money has propped up the industries fuelling our nation’s ill health.
Meat. Dairy. Processed animal fats.
These aren’t just dietary choices—they’re linked directly to heart disease, cancer, obesity, and type 2 diabetes, all of which are overloading the NHS.
When subsidies began to fade, we didn’t redirect them to fresh produce, pulses, grains, or sustainable proteins.
We just... stopped.
No vision. No redirection. Just a void.
If we truly cared about public health, we’d subsidise the solutions.
Instead, we subsidised the sickness—and left healthy food to fend for itself in a broken market.
At current rates of degradation, we have less than 60 harvests left before topsoil collapse.
This is not theory.
This is ecological fact.
Lose the soil, lose the food.
Industrial agriculture, pesticide abuse, monoculture farming, and relentless animal rearing on land that should be healing—
It’s all killing our future.
You cannot claim to “feed the nation”
while murdering the very ground it grows from.
The average UK farm can expect an environmental inspection once every 263 years.
Yes—two hundred and sixty-three years.
A quarter of a millennium.
There are pyramids younger than that.
Meanwhile, the industry claims “sustainability,” “animal welfare,” and “responsible farming.”
But with no inspections, no enforcement, and no transparency—what does any of that mean?
This isn’t a system.
It’s a publicly funded PR campaign.
As of 2022, the UK officially recognises animals as sentient beings.
They suffer. They feel. They fear.
And yet, our policies still treat them like commodities—mass-produced, mutilated, and slaughtered in silence.
It’s time our agricultural policy reflects the law we already passed.
If you subsidise sickness, you get disease.
If you ignore soil, you lose food.
If you call animals sentient—but treat them like units—you’ve already lost your humanity.
We will end the hypocrisy.
We will fund the healing.
And we will ensure that food in the UK serves life, not death.
We Account.
Access isn’t a luxury. It’s the foundation of freedom.
Billions have been poured into rail—
but the trains still don’t run on time.
Private companies take public money, then deliver late, overcrowded, overpriced services.
This isn’t just annoying.
It’s a social mobility crisis.
You can’t climb the ladder if you can’t even get to the ladder.
Transport should empower.
Instead, it imprisons.
New housing estates are going up across the country—
but they’re built for driveways, not lives.
Just tarmac, petrol, and dependence
This isn’t infrastructure.
It’s isolation by design.
And for poorer households?
It’s a trap: buy a car—or be cut off.
Many social housing estates were never built to uplift.
They were built to contain.
The message is clear:
Stay where you are. Stay in your place.
We don’t just need better transport.
We need better destinations.
A fair society is not made of roads and roundabouts.
It’s made of community, green space, access, and pride.
You shouldn’t need a car to access health.
You shouldn’t need wealth to access nature.
You shouldn’t need luck to find connection.
If you can’t get to opportunity,
you don’t have opportunity.
If there’s nowhere to gather, rest, read, or grow,
you don’t have a community.
And if a society only builds for the mobile and the rich,
it isn’t a society—it’s a cage.
We will rebuild freedom.
We will reclaim the commons.
We will connect lives—not just roads.
We Account.
Because justice that only serves the rich is just a service—not a system.
You can steal millions with a pen and walk free.
But steal bread—and you’re in a cell.
From tax fraud to political corruption to corporate crimes that kill—
the bigger the crime, the less time you’ll serve.
This isn’t justice.
It’s protection—for those with money, status, and power.
The system doesn’t collapse under inequality.
It requires it to function.
This is not about “a few bad apples.”
The orchard is diseased.
This isn’t about protection.
This is state-sanctioned trauma dressed in uniform.
We are not rehabilitating.
We are warehousing the symptoms of a broken society.
Who fills our prisons?
And while they rot, private prison contracts turn their suffering into corporate dividends.
This is not public safety.
This is profitable containment.
Once, you could fight back.
Now? Justice has a paywall.
Without money, the law is not a shield.
It’s a sword—wielded by the powerful, unreachable by the rest.
The real crime is pretending any of this is normal.
Justice has become performance.
The law is for sale.
And “rehabilitation” is a myth sold to the public while lives rot behind bars.
This system isn’t broken.
It’s working exactly as designed.
But it’s time to redesign it.
You cannot fix injustice with more cages.
You cannot heal trauma with truncheons.
And you cannot call this a democracy while justice belongs only to the rich.
We will rebuild the law from the ground up.
Because until justice protects the vulnerable as fiercely as it shields the powerful—
there is no justice.
We Account.
Preparedness isn’t paranoia. It’s protection.
It only takes one moment—a virus, a heatwave, a flood, a cyberattack—
We’ve already seen it:
This isn’t resilience.
It’s a dice roll—with lives at stake.
“Surely it won’t happen here…”
It already has.
And it will again.
Resilience means:
It’s not fear.
It’s love made practical.
Disaster response doesn’t start in Whitehall.
It starts:
You can’t centralise survival.
Empowered regions are resilient nations.
“If we wait until the crisis hits to prepare—
we’ve already failed.
Resilience is not fear.
It’s love in the form of foresight.”
I’ve not felt safe for decades.
Not truly.
And certainly not under the people in charge.
Because when the floods come, when the system crashes, when the shelves empty or the lights go out—
we all look up.
And what do we see?
If you want to know why I care so much about resilience,
please refer to my section on:
🧯 Corruption, Lobbying & Corporate Power
Because when the storm hits?
The ones who failed to prepare will be the first to run—
and the last to be held accountable.
A fair system doesn’t mean open borders—or closed hearts.
Weaponised by politicians.
Hijacked by racists.
Silenced by fear.
Oversimplified by headlines.
We’re told to pick a side:
Open borders or Fortress Britain.
But what if both are wrong?
What if the real answer is dignity, order, and truth?
Yes—we need people.
Doctors. Carers. Builders. Cleaners. Engineers.
NHS staff. Seasonal farm labour. Social care support.
But what we don’t need is:
We don’t need labour extraction.
We need long-term humanity and stability—for everyone.
Some people aren’t coming for “a better life.”
They’re coming to stay alive.
To sleep without hearing bombs.
To not be mutilated for being born female.
To not be jailed for being queer.
To not be punished for fleeing wars we funded, or droughts we helped cause.
That’s not exploitation.
That’s human survival.
And any nation that calls itself civilised must protect, not punish.
If people are fleeing...
...then let’s talk honestly.
Immigration isn’t just about “them coming here.”
It’s about what we did there—and keep doing.
Want fewer refugees?
Then stop fuelling the fires they’re running from.
Immigration in the UK is:
This creates:
And that suits the powerful perfectly.
Because if the poor are busy fighting each other—
they’re not fighting them.
This isn’t anti-immigration.
This is pro-humanity. Pro-stability. Pro-common sense.
I’ve spent the last month writing a 30-point manifesto and building a political movement.
Not because I want power—
But because no one in power is standing up for this anymore.
My goal isn’t votes.
It’s accountability.
It’s truth.
It’s to remind this country that dignity is not a radical idea.
So to those still chasing headlines and “toughness”:
Stop performing. Start protecting.
We Account.
You can’t bomb a country, exploit its labour, destroy its soil—then act surprised when its people flee.
That’s not “foreign aid.” That’s foreign abuse.
We cut international aid—
then act shocked when poverty, famine, and desperation rise.
But it was never just about the aid cuts.
We:
This isn’t foreign policy.
This is neo-colonialism in a suit and tie.
The UK is one of the world’s top arms dealers.
We sell weapons to:
Yemen. Palestine. Sudan.
Where there’s war, there’s often a UK-made bomb buried in the rubble.
This isn’t defence.
It’s business—and it’s covered in blood.
We praise “free trade” while pushing rigged deals that:
Then we blame them for “failing to develop.”
Let’s be honest—
some of Trump’s tariffs hit the right target:
a global system where domestic industries are sacrificed to corporate greed.
But let’s also be clear:
Tariffs aren’t always protection.
Sometimes, they’re punishment.
The question isn’t “Tariffs or not?”
It’s: “Who benefits—and who bleeds?”
If we want peace, we must stop profiting from war.
If we want justice, we must stop exporting injustice.
If we want cooperation, we must start with accountability.
The UK has no moral high ground while it’s standing on a mountain of weapons, oil, and stolen wealth.
It’s time to stop dressing exploitation in diplomacy.
We Account.
Domestic abuse isn’t just about bruises.
It’s about:
Abuse is a system of control—often invisible to those outside, and dismissed by those in power until it's too late.
Try leaving with:
And when you do find a space at a refuge?
That’s not justice.
That’s survival as punishment.
A women’s refuge isn’t a luxury.
It’s an emergency exit.
It’s the reason people survive long enough to rebuild.
You don’t go there for shelter.
You go because you’re at the end of the line—
and for once, you’re choosing yourself.
“Leaving should not feel like the most dangerous decision of your life.
But for many, it still is.”
We Account for every cry that went unanswered.
For every body that never made it out.
For every survivor rebuilding from nothing.
And we promise this:
You will never be invisible again.
“I lost my family home to arson.
Sure—it didn’t burn down.
But the idea of stability did.
I hated moving from one women’s refuge to the next.
I hated the uncertainty. The loss. The shame society made me feel.
But that system—those women—
They saved me.
They saved us.
My family is alive because someone left the lights on when the rest of the world turned away.”
Honour without exploitation. Defence without silence.
Every year, we parade veterans.
We hang flags.
We say “thank you for your service.”
But behind the slogans?
We use them.
Then we lose them.
We don’t send the sons of hedge fund managers to war.
We send:
And some of that is true.
But so is this:
We weaponise their hopes.
Then we break their bodies.
And offer them bureaucracy instead of dignity.
Too often, war isn't the last resort.
It's the first export.
This isn’t defence.
It’s business—built on blood.
“If you’re willing to die for your country—
your country should be willing to fight for you until your last breath.”
Not every patriot pulls a trigger.
Some pull people from rubble.
Some say “no” when everyone else says “yes, sir.”
We talk about freedom.
But what kind of freedom forces someone into violence against their own values?
Conscientious objection isn’t weakness.
It’s moral clarity under pressure.
For decades, military service has been framed as the only way to “serve your country.”
But what about:
Right now, the UK offers almost nothing for structured, dignified, non-military national service.
That’s not defence.
That’s ideological conscription.
If we give medals for destruction, we can give them for creation.
Imagine a UK where:
“Serving your country shouldn’t require betraying your soul.
There are many ways to protect a nation.
Let us honour all of them.”
You can watch me.
But I’m watching you.
And I don’t look away.
Then put them on everyone.
If cameras stop rape, catch predators, and prevent terror?
Then yes—track every inch.
I’m not hiding.
But don’t you dare call this “safety” while:
If you’re going to watch the people,
then you watch the powerful too.
No exceptions.
If you track her walk home but ignore her assault report...
If you log our faces but not the hate groups funding violence...
If you mine our data but sell it to advertisers...
Then this isn’t safety.
It’s ownership.
Possession, not protection.
We believe in free speech.
But let’s be clear:
Tech giants know this.
They profit from outrage.
They design algorithms that feed extremism—then claim ignorance when it explodes.
If you build the weapon,
you’re responsible for what it destroys.
Technology should free us.
Instead, it’s used to:
The future wasn’t meant to feel colder.
It was meant to feel lighter. More equal. More human.
Surveillance isn’t evil.
Unaccountable, for-profit, selective surveillance is.
If we’re truly watching to protect?
Then we point those cameras:
No more one-way mirrors.
If they’re watching us—
we’ll make damn sure we’re watching them.
You can watch every move I make—
But if you won’t watch your own?
Then the only thing you’re protecting...
is power.
And we’re done being watched in silence.
We Account.
Faith is personal. Policy is public.
You’re free to worship.
You’re free to wear your symbols, keep your sabbaths, and pray to whoever (or whatever) gives you strength.
But freedom of religion does not mean the freedom to control public law, education, healthcare, or animal welfare.
If your beliefs need protection, let them be protected.
If your beliefs demand control over others?
That’s where we draw the line.
Britain isn’t a theocracy—but neither is it a vacuum.
Faith has shaped much of our language and legal legacy.
But legacy is not law.
We don’t erase religion.
We just make sure it doesn’t sit at the controls.
British identity has never been static.
It’s grown, clashed, reshaped, and risen from centuries of exchange.
We’re not “under threat.”
We’re in progress.
“I like immigrants, because I think the only way we are going to grow as a culture, as a society is by allowing people who see the world a bit differently to join us.”
That’s how ethics evolve.
That’s how compassion spreads.
That’s how nations get stronger.
In 2022, the UK officially recognised animals as sentient.
But that’s not enough.
We’ve banned some practices… but others persist:
People cry foul over religious slaughter—but ignore standard industrial cruelty.
Let’s fix all of it.
“You’re free to worship your god.
But our policies must answer to the people.
And our compassion must answer to the voiceless.
Because suffering doesn’t care what you believe—
It only begs to be seen.”
No animal would suffer for human pleasure.
Not for taste, not for profit, not for fashion, not for tradition.
But let’s be pragmatic.
Ending consumption tomorrow isn’t a vote winner.
So let’s make a red line promise:
In the first week of power, loopholes that allow unnecessary suffering, poor living conditions, or slow, painful deaths will be closed. For good.
We’ll enforce the Animal Sentience Act.
We’ll rewrite the Welfare Codes.
And we’ll raise the floor so high that only ethical farming survives—and only temporarily.
Because yes, higher welfare means higher prices.
And when that happens?
Consumption drops.
Lab-grown and plant-based alternatives become competitive.
The world begins to change—without panic, without deception, and without cruelty.
“If we accept they can suffer,
Then we accept that our excuses don’t matter anymore.
Compassion is not radical. It’s overdue.”