Meanwhile, in the land of Net Zero: A Cargo Ship with a Kite Pretends to Discover the Sail Again25/9/2025
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media It seems civilisation has gone full circle, a modern marvel of "green technology" now involves tying a glorified kite to a cargo ship, as though Odysseus himself hadn't already nailed the trick three thousand years ago. A future of climate salvation, apparently, lies in rediscovering the bloody sail.
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media There it was in black and white, like some holy decree scrawled by a tipsy philosopher in a Wetherspoons bathroom: "Just because someone has committed a crime, doesn't make them a criminal." You couldn't write it, except someone did. And now it's plastered across the internet like an inspirational poster for degeneracy, the sort of thing you'd expect to see stitched on a cushion in the waiting room of a parole officer.
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media One Man's Peaceful Protest and the Village That Refused to Apologise for Loving Itself It began with a video. A grainy clip from a parish hall, buzzing strip lights overhead, villagers shifting nervously in their chairs while a man stood up and said the thing no one else dared. His voice was steady, but behind it was the weight of frustration, and in that moment it became clear: this was never really about flags. It was about something far bigger.
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media The green zealots have kicked down the door of your garage, prised the boiler from your kitchen wall, and now, God help us, they're eyeing up your coffin. It's not enough to manage your life from cradle to mortgage; now they want to regulate your death. You won't rest in peace, you'll rest in paperwork.
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media The old lunatic Nietzsche had it right: the rot doesn't start in Parliament or in the seedy boardrooms of multinational vampires. Still, in the classroom where wide-eyed children are taught that safety lies in sameness, that salvation comes from blending in like wallpaper. The actual corruption is conformity: the slow suffocation of curiosity, individuality strangled under the respectable tie of groupthink. This is the quiet death of the spirit, the factory, floor schooling of tame minds.
By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media It all started with a monk and a hammer, the kind of blunt instrument history adores, and now here we are, drowning in hashtags, twitching at TikToks, and searching for meaning in therapy-speak and gender-neutral muffins. It's been one hell of a journey, and nobody's steering the bloody train.
By Martin Foskett / Dispatches / Knelstrom Media. The village woke this morning to rain, the grey, soaking kind that isn't dramatic enough for thunder but still manages to worm its way into your socks and drip down your collar. Pavements glistened like melted butter, puddles filled potholes with smug inevitability, and every lamppost looked like it had been crying all night. The air was heavy with wet coats, diesel fumes, and the faint smell of chip wrappers.
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