Tommy Robinson - Enemy of the State

INTRODUCTION

IWAS HOPING to shout out loud three cheers for Tommy Robinson on the morningof Thursday July 23rd, 2015. I say Tommy Robinson. Its sometimes StephenLennon in the media, or occasionally a long-ago name, Stephen Yaxley. Whatever.It was going to be three cheers for me, the founder and former leader, nowofficially retired, of the English Defence League.

Ithad been a dramatic, often wild six years, of street battles and policestitch-ups, of fearing for my familys lives and resisting attempts by ScotlandYard to recruit me as some kind of undercover snitch. Six years of mad laughswith the lads, but also of long weeks and months in solitary confinement. Sixyears of having my life turned upside down and inside out by the state all for being a British patriot. For trying to wake my fellow countrymen andwomen up to the dangers of radical Islam.

Andas of Thursday July 23rd I would be a free man. I would be able to take myfamily on holiday, to speak on a public platform without having my collar felt,to go about my business like any other citizen of the United Kingdom.

Thelicence period of an 18-month prison sentence for lending my brother-in-law thedeposit on his first house yes, really was due to end onWednesday July 22nd. Finally I could say without fear of being handcuffedagain, Luton and Bedfordshire Probation Service, Scotland Yard and the entireBritish constabulary kiss my arse.

Icould have shouted as loud as I liked, but no one would have heard. Not while Iwas locked in yet another concrete box of a solitary confinement cell in thebowels of HMP Peterborough, waiting for someone to tell me what the hell Idbeen jailed for this time. Just days before being a free man at last, andthrown in a cell once again on the whim of some sadistic so-and-so just tryingto squeeze one more ounce of misery out of me, while they still could.

Eventhe screws in Peterborough nick could hardly believe it that someonewould get recalled to prison just a week or so before their licence was up. Iwas in solitary confinement, yet again, because despite all of my warnings tothe screws, including a note to the prison governor not to do it, they put meon an open wing, two cells away from a Muslim murderer doing 28 years.

Hepromptly put a massive bounty on my head and after I gave a Somali prisoner aslapping I was told hed taken the contract to attack me with boilingwater I finally got my wish, the safety and sanctuary of being insolitary. It was only a few days until I was free of the system. I could handlethat.

Butthe day and night of July 22nd came and went, with no explanation. They kept melocked up another 48 hours. It was probably because they (whoever iswatching, and believe me they are) knew that I was due to be making a publicappearance at the House of Lords on the 23rd. They were desperate to keepdisrupting my life for as long as they possibly could.

Sofor all of you history buffs who celebrated 800 years of the signing of MagnaCarta this summer be my guest and shove your Habeas Corpus up yourdeluded liberal backsides. There isnt much justice in the British justicesystem that Ive come to know and hate.

Indeed,for someone who has bent over backwards to avoid trouble in recent months andyears, Ive spent more time in English prisons than some of the Great TrainRobbers. If this book-writing gig catches on, my next effort might be a guidedtour to the many and varied institutions of HMs prison service.

Still,better late than never. Im out. No more weekly sermons from the Marxist matronat the probation office, no more messing with mine and my familys lives justfor the hell of it. Im done with bowing and scraping to busybody do-gooders,to looking over my shoulder for the police every time I tweet something mildlyoffensive to a Home Counties communist.

Imfree of the English Defence League and, mostly, Im finally free to make my ownchoices. With my track record, I suspect that will include making plenty moremistakes. I just hope that whatever they are, they dont involve hearing theclanging door of a jail cell behind me. Ive had enough of them fairlyor unfairly for a lifetime.

Dontworry, youre not going to need a box of Kleenex at your side as you read this.It really isnt Tommy-does-tearjerking. Its not a sob story. The trouble Ivefound myself in has been at times clearly self-inflicted. But only at times.You might just learn something about the workings of a British police statethat I doubt you believe exists.

Myover-arching crime, at least in the eyes of the British establishment, has beento be a patriot. I love my country. I think that St Georges Day, April 23rd,should be a public holiday. I resent the fact that people who hate the countrythey call home are pampered and protected by a state that places theirso-called rights above those of young men who risk and sacrifice their livesfor British democracy.

Oh,and just to make things clear from the outset, I really, really dont careabout the colour of those peoples skin or the nature of their religion. Inever have and I still dont. Im sorry if that disappoints a few of you.

Butheres something else I believe that if you publicly declare war on me,my family and my country, its only to be expected that some of us will offerresistance. Clearly Im in the minority or at least so its seemed,since this life of Tommy Robinson began in 2009.

Myname will forever be connected with the English Defence League, I know that.But this isnt a book about the EDL, although it obviously plays a major partin it. Theirs is a different story, perhaps for another day. For now this is mystory, my attempt to make sense of a life, and especially a recent past, thateven I find barely believable.

Noneof it was planned. But despite everything that Ive been through, I have noregrets, other than what my family has been put through and that wasntalways of my doing. Youll notice that I dont name my wife and children in thebook. Thats deliberate. They still occasionally pay too heavy a price forhaving me as a father and husband.

Cominghome from Peterborough nick, albeit a couple of days late, marked the end of an18-month prison sentence, all because I lent my brother-in-law 20,000 for adeposit on a house. And he overstated his earnings on a self certificationmortgage, which made it criminal. No one lost a single penny, but havingtried and failed on numerous counts to put me away, to silence me, the statefinally did.