NEWSWIRE

​It was one of those muggy, pollen-choked mornings in July, half the nation hayfevered into a stupor, the other half still convinced the internet was a threat greater than inflation. I was parked behind a crumbling Tesco Express, scrolling through the feed on my knackered old phone 

​"You must verify your age to view this content."

It started with a flicker on the roadside. A glint of sun off twine. One big yellow brute of a bale sitting squat in the corner of a freshly razored field—a rectangle of resurrection.

Then another.
And another.
The straw is back.

And not the neat little squares your uncle used to stack in his Land Rover for the village fête. No—these are giant rectangular cubes of agricultural intent, each one weighing half a tonne and looking like something you'd use to block a runway.

We're in a straw boom. And hardly anyone's talking about it.

​It doesn't take a revolution to dismantle a republic. Sometimes, all it takes is paperwork and an invoice.

For over two centuries, the U.S. Constitution has held the line like a ragged but determined prize fighter, championing the grand, terrifying notion that the rights of the individual supersede those of the state. It was radical. It was wild. It worked. But now, a quiet coup is underway, not with muskets and marching bands, but with sterile legislation and predatory litigation. The republic isn't being conquered. It's being codified.