Every day now feels like producers sitting in a control room throwing random chaos at the population to keep engagement high.

Monday: “IMMIGRANTS.”

Tuesday: “TRANS PEOPLE.”

Wednesday: “THE BENEFITS SCROUNGERS.”

Thursday: “THE MUSLIMS.”

Friday: “THE FAR RIGHT.”

Saturday: Tommy Robinson marching through London while police helicopters circle overhead like it’s the season finale of a dystopian Netflix series.

And meanwhile?

Food prices climb. Rent climbs. Energy climbs. Mental illness climbs. Child poverty climbs. NHS waiting lists explode. The country visibly collapses in real time.

But nobody in power wants you looking DOWN.

Only sideways.

At each other.

Because if the public ever stopped screaming at the nearest available scapegoat for five consecutive minutes, they might start noticing the people looting the country in broad daylight wearing suits and poppies.

Britain isn’t being governed anymore.

It’s being managed emotionally.

And some of you still think your favourite politician is coming to save you.

Clown nation. Front row seats. 🤡