I speak the truth they don’t want to hear.
I have solutions they don’t want to try.
I take action where others stay silent.
I was born in Huddersfield. Always sharp. Never built for the classroom. I got into Greenhead College, one of the best in the country at the time, and left after five weeks. Not because I couldn’t do it. Because it wasn’t for me.
So at 16, I joined the Army. The start was brutal. Homesick, exhausted, constantly at the back.
That’s where most people quit.
I didn’t.
I pushed through it at my lowest, and that changed me. When my strength came back, I overtook everyone. By the end of training, I was named best recruit.
That’s when I learned something that’s stayed with me ever since:
Pressure either breaks you or builds you.
I deployed to Iraq in 2008, where me and one other soldier built the JFLogC forward HQ in Basra — the base coordinating the British withdrawal. Responsibility came early, and I handled it.
After promotion, I deployed again to Afghanistan in 2010.
I led one of the busiest tech desks in Helmand before moving out to a patrol base, where things became very real. Freezing desert nights. No comfort. No guarantees. Sleeping in an 8-man tent wondering if someone might unzip the door and open fire. That’s when war stopped being an idea.
I made it home.
Not everyone did.
This deployment was different.
It was a specialist task I can’t go into detail about but I achieved something no one had done before. A mission that wasn’t supposed to be possible.
Then my son was born.
I wasn’t there for it. But when I finally held him, everything changed. In that moment, I knew my time in the military was over.
Civilian life didn’t fit.
No structure. No mission. No clear direction.
Being a “computer guy” without a rifle felt empty. Like a lot of lads leaving service, things got messy fast. My relationship broke down, and after we separated, I was stopped from seeing my children.
That changes you.
I moved between jobs until I landed in construction and slowly started rebuilding my life. But even as things stabilised, something still didn’t sit right.
After everything we’d fought for abroad
Why did it feel like basic things back home weren’t working the way they should?
Then in 2018, I started studying market mechanics. By 2020, I was deep into it and I was seeing patterns that concerned me.
Not guesses. Not theories. Patterns.
Signals that pointed toward a major economic shock. And historically, those moments don’t just hit markets they spill into society.
So in March 2020, as COVID hit, I raised the alarm. I used Twitter deliberately to trigger government monitoring systems. Time proved my predictions were correct. But no one in power acted. I was putting forward solutions. Practical, structural changes I believed (and most of my follows believe) could fix deeper problems in the country.
That’s when things turned. They didn’t ignore me. What they did was worse.
I was flagged, monitored, and then, from my perspective, targeted. Surveillance ramped up in a variety of ways.
I asked for help. Police. MPs., Doctors. Anyone who should have stepped in. Nothing. That isolation does something to you. It wears you down. What was worse, If I spoke out about it, My words where twisted and what are credible accusations where framed as delusions.
It turned out that the policians have their own secret police force based in Buckingham palace called FTAC, who specialise in detaining people using the mental health act. It is the perfect subversion of political values. The mental health act allowed them to detain someone without warning, without evidence, without trial, all while framing any accusations they make as delusions and entirely discrediting them under the vale of insanity.
