. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱: 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵. Warning this is an emotive post I am willing to listen to Loyalist constructive commentary but if you can't string a sentence together or are abusive you will be blocked quicker than the straight of Hormuz. If the British state allows the North of Ireland to unify how long is it before Scotland and Wales leave this corrupt Union? The English government have a long tradition of dressing power in legal costume. They called Sir William Wallace a traitor in 1305 for defending his own country against Edward Plantagenet's armies — tried at Westminster a man taken to Smithfield and hanged, drawn and quartered not for breaking faith with Scotland, but for refusing to kneel to a foreign crown. Seven centuries later, the vocabulary has barely changed: what the state cannot answer with argument, it answers with labels. The Drumcree march on the Garvaghy Road is the modern heir to that tradition, and I believe MI5 and the security state know exactly what they are doing with it. Between 1996 and 1999, twenty-one people were murdered in the violence that swirled around the Drumcree dispute. The roll of the dead is a testament to what happens when the state gives loyalism its head: Michael McGoldrick, a Catholic taxi driver shot dead on a country lane near Lurgan in July 1996, on the orders of Billy Wright's UVF unit, at the height of the standoff. Twelve-year-old Darren Murray, knocked down in Portadown while Protestant youths cheered. Dermot McShane, run over by a British Army armoured vehicle in Derry during the riots that followed the police capitulation of 1996 — 5,000 of the 6,000 plastic bullets fired that week were aimed at nationalists. Robert Hamill, beaten to death in Portadown in 1997 while RUC officers looked on. Adrian Lamph, gunned down by the LVF in April 1998. The Quinn brothers — Jason, aged eight, Mark, nine, and Richard, ten — burned alive in their beds in Ballymoney in July 1998, on a night the RUC Chief Constable himself linked to the Drumcree protests. Constable Frank O'Reilly, killed by a loyalist pipe bomb. Rosemary Nelson, the human rights lawyer who had represented the Garvaghy Road residents, blown up in her car in March 1999; the inquiry later found the RUC had failed to protect her and that leaked intelligence had increased the danger to her life. Elizabeth O'Neill, burned in a sectarian attack on her Portadown home in 1999. Twenty-one dead, in four Julys and the violence between them — and the trail of each one runs back to the same hill outside Portadown. And the Orange Order's Scottish arm stood shoulder to shoulder with all of it. The Grand Orange Lodge of Scotland threw its weight behind the Portadown District's campaign, "Support Drumcree" rallies were organised in militant Protestant communities in Scotland, and Scottish loyalists joined the swell of outsiders who converged on Drumcree — "buses full of Orangemen and their supporters" arrived to bring Portadown to a standstill, men from Glasgow and the west of Scotland standing with the Portadown brethren and their paramilitary camp followers. The timing was never innocent. Each year from 1995, the dispute "threatened to derail the peace process." The Good Friday Agreement was signed in April 1998, and within weeks Drumcree Four had set the North ablaze. One does not have to imagine a signed order on MI5 stationery to see the pattern: an instrument of sectarian leverage, kept in reserve, applied precisely when Irish unity moved from fantasy to arithmetic. A border poll is no longer a republican dream; it is a democratic countdown. And the security state, which understands little but force and leverage, reaches for the oldest pressure point in the arsenal — loyalist anger, stoked annually, blessed by the sash and the scripture. #northernireland #suppressed #britshit #GarvaghyRoad #celticnation