Britain’s most reviled man

Jeremy Clarke

27 March 2004

Jeremy Clarke talks to the BNP leader Nick Griffin, and is a bit shocked by his moderation

‘If we preached a message of racism,’ said Mr Griffin, ‘I’d be in prison under the Race Relations Act instead of sitting here talking to you. If we preached intolerance we’d be in prison for religious intolerance. If we preached brutality we’d be in prison for incitement to violence. We aren’t in prison. It’s just another piece of Tory waffle, isn’t it?’

‘So who do we shoot first?’ I said. ‘Prescott?’

‘We shoot no one,’ said Mr Griffin equably. ‘If we gave this virtually totalitarian regime the slightest excuse, they’d be coming through everyone’s front doors with sledgehammers in no time. Violence of any kind would be totally counterproductive — quite apart from the moral angle, which, I’d say, is that we have a duty to use the most constitutional, legal and peaceful means that are available to us. While there is still a democratic path open to us, that is the one we’re going to stick to.’

Although I had known almost nothing about the BNP before that afternoon, I’d been cherishing secret fantasies about uniforms, marching songs and secret stockpiles of gleaming weapons. Yet here was Mr Griffin banging on about the sanctity of democratic politics like all the rest of them. Against New Labour’s financial resources and slick propaganda machine, and the instant gratification offered by their market state, the BNP would have about as much chance of success as they would if they stood for parliament in Zimbabwe. I looked at Mr Griffin with sadness. I’d come a long way for nothing. ‘Any links to Combat 18?’ I said, more in hope than expectation. ‘I’m on their “stab on sight” list,’ he said.

I changed the subject. ‘What about pets?’ I said. ‘Have you got any pets?’