groups; a modestly hopeful banner is
discomfort. The eyes of Hexthorpe swivel
Someone remarkable only for their
asking everyone to Unite Against Fascism.
to watch them. They are as quiet and
ignorance, on the EDL side, is waving the
There are clusters of local residents, and
welcoming as boulders.
flag of Israel. “St George was PALESTINIAN!”
everyone seems blinking, pummelled
hoots the opposition. His face crumples
by those heavy clouds, and shiftingly
There’s crowding and bellowing for a
and he keeps peeking forlornly at his
awkward, the way people are when
while; everyone is calling everyone else
flag. Maybe a moment like that is it for
confronted by lots and lots of themselves.
scum. If the EDL meant to be impressive,
the EDL, making them look a huddle of
What with the strolling and the muggy
if they expected Hexthorpe to turn shiny,
fierce fools. The speeches finish, and
heat, it’s not unlike Cleethorpes, folk self-
patriotic faces towards their flags, then
they straggle out to jeers, the cross of St
consciously taking the air. Only today, the
they must be disappointed. It’s ugly and
George drooping, presumably shocked to
air has wisps of unpleasantness.
beery and pointless. All the diverse faces
discover its own ethnic heritage. So much
of Hexthorpe are made uniform in disgust.
for the English hero, the national narrative.
Right from the start, there have been more
The counter-protest begins to chant.
With that gone, why not write a story for
police than civilians, and they’re clustered
They’ve got nothing but a megaphone,
yourself; collaborate, string voices from a
most thickly here, but the police aren’t
and an enormous purpose: the EDL gone.
community as mixed and multitudinous as
frightening. They’re buttoned-up and
Their posters are home-made, and that’s
Hexthorpe’s into a tale that really means
earnest in neat formations, with regulation
the thing, for so many people here, this
something? When the growing group on the
batons that they use according to
is home, and they want to be the ones
residents’ side of it all roar “OUR STREETS”,
guidelines. The residents’ dogs that are out
who make it. Even though it’s jumbled
that’s courage and pride. The end of the
on patrol, the local force, are frightening.
and scrabbling, what’s clear is that there
EDL’s presence seems more like a kind of
They’re as thick and squat as foul temper,
are more, many more, people who end up
beginning for everyone else, the start of a
with non-regulation jaws that they use
outside the industrial park where the EDL
new community narrative written by and
according to instinct. The police are here
ensconce themselves. The EDL are penned
for everyone. Maybe people didn’t realise
to keep the streets orderly; the dogs are
in, sheepishly, while outside the chanting
they could write it until today. The first
here to keep the streets theirs. Waiting,
and determination turns their organised
page has been laid out: whose streets? Our
residents and protesters all hotching
speeches into bleating.
streets. Who are we? Black and white. What
about, penned in by security forces in
do we do? UNITE AND FIGHT. Fight against
numbers that definitely suggest trouble,
“Auschwitz- never again!” bellows the
fascism, classism, anyone who tries to
it manages to feel both apocalyptic and
counter-protest, and suddenly it’s not
tell this Doncaster community how to be.
banal. I don’t know what I was expecting:
Hexthorpe anymore; time has just got
Whatever problems are facing Hexthorpe,
berets and barricade building. Instead, it’s
very small. It could be no longer ago than
the answers could be drafted into this new
macs, and quite a lot of milling around.
yesterday that another mass of economy-
book, where everyone can hold the pen.
beaten, circumstance-worn people When chaos comes and civilisation falls,
wondered what on earth had happened
Finally, the storm lets go, a gushing taunt
it will happen close enough to home for
to them, and a group made of anger leapt
as the EDL retreat. It needs to rain and
people to nip back and have a cup of tea.
up to answer all their questions with hate
rain, to wash away the anger that was
Everyone will cluster in the road to watch
and intolerance and the promise that rage
smeared here like mud, dull and claggy
the end coming, on a dreary summer-
against the situation could change it, if
and formless. It needs to rain heavy and
storm day.
only everyone could organise enough to
generously on the patches of green, so
efficiently find a scapegoat. People are
newness can grow strong. Walking away,
And then - then they’re here, rumbling and
unoccupied, and it can be seen like just
soaked, looking at faces washed with
ragged and razoring the air with crossness.
another playground game to wad up blame
something quietly like victory, I notice
Here come the EDL, less marching than
and heave and grunt it around, lobbing
the sign. Hexthorpe and the counter-
stumping, and dumpily ordinary. It’s an
it overarm at whoever might not know
protest stood against the EDL on a patch
odd mix of beer garden meets martial,
to duck. Finding someone to victimise
of land put aside by Doncaster Central
jogging bottoms and garish flags. I can’t
can offer the consolation of strength and
Development Trust for the ‘regeneration
decide whether the banners with huge,
purpose against boredom. It might be
work’ of New Deal for Communities. It’s
Iron Cross-like insignia are more or less
childish, and that might make it seem
being used well.
alarming next to all the lumpen, everyday
nothing - a child-sized problem - but
faces. They’re loud, with the swagger and
children are the most spitefully, wilfully
pride of all louts who cheer each other on
cruel versions of humans, and have the
because when they fall quiet is when they
least sense of shame.
End
begin to cringe at themselves. All the faces are red from chanting, but probably also
17