Sunday 19th October 2025
The right’s endless contrition—epitomised by Christian Calgie’s hasty retreat from Zarah Sultana’s wrath—only tightens the noose. This relentless assault, blind to reason or mercy, demands not dialogue but domination. It leaves us choosing between cowering submission or a bold stand to reclaim our voice, our values, and our future before the ground beneath us crumbles entirely.
This venomous backlash erupts without mercy, toppling anyone who dares speak against the tide. Christian Calgie learned that lesson this week: The Daily Express journalist, voicing a frustration shared by millions, tweeted his exhaustion at taxes funding voices that despise England's core: “Cannot wait until my taxes no longer fund Zarah’s salary”, a pointed jab at Zarah Sultana, the Coventry South MP. When a reader replied that they couldn’t wait for taxes to fund “deporting Zarahs,” Calgie endorsed it outright: “Even better.” He folded fast, offering his apologies hoping for a sliver of peace. Did they ease? Not a chance, they howled louder, calling for his ruin, twisting his regret into a noose. What the right have failed to realise for far too long is that apologies don't build bridges; they draw blood.
Then the onslaught; Labour's Bridget Phillipson, education secretary, condemned Calgie’s reply online as "appalling and unacceptable," demanding contrition for this "British Muslim woman." Sultana struck back: "A mainstream journalist calling for a British MP to be deported. Is it because I'm Muslim? Next time, just say it with your chest." The digital mob followed and Calgie broke. His apology read like a forced confession: "I wish to apologise to Zarah Sultana MP for my inappropriate response... It was wrong of me to do so and I am sorry. Taking a break from X to restore my mental health." This was no reckoning; it was pure capitulation. And herein lies the fatal flaw of the right: our compulsion to apologise, as if contrition could quench their thirst.
Such gestures are never olive branches; they’re invitations to feast. They signal frailty, embolden the predators, and transform a fleeting skirmish into a rout. Calgie's surrender amplified their howls, proving once more that mercy from us is met only with contempt. His groveling, meant to appease, instead fueled their demands for his ruin. That same disdain ripples wider, a tactic honed by the left across countless fronts; they’ve stifled voices for daring to call men men and women women, cast out those who questioned the vaccine mandate, hounded parents who fought to keep radical sex education out of classrooms, muting anyone straying from their rigid creed. They’ve hammered us into supplicants, offering no reprieve, no shred of grace. They unearth our lives, hound us into silence, even strike us down, yet time and time again in our timidity, mutter sorry. This ritual of self-abasement builds nothing, it carves our graves deeper, arming them with the tools to bury us as we fumble for justification. Even as Calgie bent the knee, Sultana mocked it outright: "“Inappropriate”? I think the word you’re looking for is racist? If you’re going to apologise, don’t do it mealy-mouthed. Go and educate yourself. And your employer, the Daily Express, could start by actually apologising and providing you with some anti-racism training." Her camp pressed on, unappeased, demanding not just regret but obliteration, retraining, institutional mea culpas, total submission.
This is the left's calculus; your every misstep is their mandate to destroy, your every concession their cue to strike harder. What began with Sultana’s scorn and Phillipson’s demands hints at a larger design. Connor Tomlinson cut through the fog on X declaring 'Sultana is a vindictive race communist who would turn our green and pleasant land into an Islamic slum if given the power. Requesting she relocate to a place that already practices her odious politics is the moderate position'. These are the unyielding sparks we need instead of those who cling to the myth that self-flagellation buys peace. It doesn't. It only whets the blade, bolstering the left's arsenal with media censorship to silence dissent, 'diversity' quotas that marginalise white Britons, and institutional smear campaigns branding migration skeptics as fascists. Calgie's fall is the blueprint; persist in apology, and the next dissenter won't recant, he'll renounce his soul. What seemed a brief nod to remigration, the heterodox plan of sending back the incompatible, was quickly snuffed out by the chill of a pink slip. A timid right, too afraid to strike back against radicals and foreigners who see every dissent as a chance to tighten their grip. Their endgame isn’t debate or reform, it’s domination.
The hour for negotiation, for seeking common ground, has long passed. We are losing, not to superior arguments, but to our own restraint in the face of cultural erasure. The left’s radicals cannot be swayed by reason, driven only by their own hunger for power. They revel in crushing dissent, whether it’s the mob that toasted Charlie Kirk’s blood like fine wine after his public execution last month, or the hounding that drove a journalist like Calgie into exile on X.The Calgie-Sultana clash is but a flicker in a storm the right still can’t grasp, blind to how the left thinks differently, with a scorn that cuts deep and a power that crushes.You cannot debate disdain into devotion, nor vote true conservatism from those who crave our cultural and personal destruction. Our nation crumbles, our culture is gutted, religion mocked, way of life supplanted, people diluted by liberal blank-slate fever dreams that bury Britain in enforced diversity who brand us Nazis for resisting. We've extended hands, only to I feel have them severed. You cannot debate disdain into devotion, nor vote true conservatism from those who crave our cultural and personal destruction. Radical leftists and outsiders infest our institutions, city councils, schools, media, promulgating rot. Their ideology is the architect of our unraveling, and we must grasp that truth before the blade falls. Enough is enough.
They must hold no power over me, over our children, over our lives. We need to disempower them and claim the authority we demand, claiming power not for conquest, but survival. Because someone will raise our kids, pen our laws, and enforce them. Let it be us. The right must awaken, we are in battle for power, and every apology cedes ground to the grave. Stand up. Surrender no more.