The long-trumpeted “Operation Overlord” invasion of France finally landed on the beaches of Normandy yesterday. Or rather, it washed up gently, in the form of about a dozen blokes standing on the sand near Calais, waving flags at the sea while Danny Tommo yelled into the wind.
No mass mobilisation. No flotilla-stopping heroics. Just a small knot of flaggers, some bunting, and a great deal of empty space.
Grandiose rhetoric
After weeks of grandiose online rhetoric about “taking action”, “defending borders” and “doing what governments won’t”, the reality amounted to something closer to a windswept day trip.
The French authorities had already banned British far-right activists from organising protests along the Channel coast. Tommo managed to evade the French entry ban, it seems, by travelling via Belgium.
Overall, the result was less D-Day and more Dad’s Army meets the Jolly Boys.
Paltry numbers
Tommo blamed the paltry numbers on the authorities blocking thousands from travelling.
We suspect the truth is that very few even tried.
But despite the fact that it was a total fiasco, Tommo had to claim victory:
“You may have stopped many patriots at the border. You may have blocked travel and turned men away. But you did not stop us all. Some of us still made it and today we took a stand on those beaches.
“Today, we stand proud, English men standing upright, peaceful and resolute, defending our nation, our people, and our future…We will never surrender”.
Then we suspect, it was off to the booze warehouse to fill up the van.
Back in Blighty…
Warming to his fantasy, he later told his supporters that, back in Blighty, Dover had witnessed “an incredible sight, a wave of patriots”.
This referred to his call for Dover to be “totally shut down” by “patriotic” woman (he specifically called on the ‘Pink ladies’ to turn out) and men who couldn’t get to France.
The reality, though, was another dismal flop – despite people being mobilised from as far afield as Southampton, Stevenage and Clacton.
In fact, around 50 protesters gathered at the Western Jet Foil migrant processing centre to chant “send them back” at a building that was, inconveniently, closed for repairs.
Brave face
Tommo’s Dover-based collaborator Andy Hood tried to put a brave face on it all in a video posted on Facebook: “It was a raving success. Wasn’t a massive group of people there, but the job got done”.
The “job” was to lay siege to “the gates of Mordor”, as Hood ludicrously termed the reception facility.
Undeterred by the absence of anyone to receive the message, Stevenage-based ‘Pink lady’ Hayley Cawley Griffin, an extraordinarily noisy and foul-mouthed gobshite deploying a megaphone that was entirely surplus to requirements, strode around bellowing abuse.
Police officers and security guards were addressed at length. Migrants were not, largely because none were present. Nor were the public.
Slow march
The group had earlier marched, very slowly, from the fascists’ favourite Dover watering hole, the Golden Lion, to the reception facility, briefly slowing down traffic on the A20.
At the pub they had been addressed by UKIP’s Amanda Randall, a Kent County councillor and defector from Reform, and Faversham flagger and anti-immigration demo organiser Harry Hilden.
Although Hilden was not involved in organising the event, and despite his evident scepticism about those who were, “Fash Harry” was happy to pop down to Dover and tag along.
In a comment on Facebook later he told his followers: “I never went there for Danny [Tommo]- Ryan [Bridge] or a political group , I went to shut the port down for the day and support my country, is Danny or Ryan trying to make a £ note out of this appears so there not getting any money from me I know that”.
Meanwhile, Dover carried on serenely, blissfully unaware it had been “totally shut down”.
Performance over substance
This peculiar talent for replacing substance with performance has become a defining feature of Tommo’s activities. His gullible followers are promised historic moments; what they get are shivery stand-arounds and brisk reminders of public order legislation.
But practical outcomes were never really the point. The real product is outrage: monetised through livestreams, subscriptions and a constant sense of impending action that somehow never quite arrives.
Well worth a quick, performative day trip to France. Or Dover.
