Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat.
What should’ve been a roaring red celebration in Liverpool, a triumph of teamwork and talent painted across the streets in chants and confetti, turned bloodstained when tragedy smashed through the joy like a car with no brakes—literally. Yes, while Liverpool FC fans raised scarves and beers to another Premier League feather in the club’s historic cap, a rogue driver rammed his way into the revelry, casting a dark shadow over the city’s victory parade.
Now hear me out—I’m as fond of football as the next over-caffeinated commentator, but let’s not kick the ball away from the real issue here: when a great British city can’t celebrate without pedestrian lives getting mowed down like offside defense, there’s a virus far more potent than anything COVID ever cooked up—a disease called “Security Theater.”
Let’s call it what it is: another case of lion-hearted fans defenseless in the belly of bureaucratic dysfunction. While the politicians tweet empty “thoughts and prayers” in between expense-claim cocktails, we get a city turned soft on its own safety. They wrapped the parade in ribbons and PR, strapped on high-vis vests, and called it “ready.” Ready for celebration, sure. Ready for chaos? Not even close.
Now I’m not saying Boris himself handed the assailant car keys and a map, but when the government slashes police budgets like they’re trimming bonsai trees, this is the cost: lives interrupted mid-celebration, flags red not with pride but with pain. Law enforcement was there—sure, sporting clipboards and walkie-talkies. But deterrence? Prevention? That part disappeared quicker than a minister under investigation.
And let’s not tiptoe around the other elephant in the room: the ever-fattening file of “vehicle attacks on public gatherings.” You’d think in 2024, after Nice, after Berlin, after countless others, someone in the halls of power would finally get it: No, you can’t stop every lunatic with a license. But you can sure as hell narrow their lane.
Steel barriers. Vehicle-free zones. Actual crowd control instead of symbolic traffic cones.
But that’s not sexy enough for the front pages, is it? Doesn’t quite match the narrative of a “united, jubilant city.” Doesn’t fit into the shallow soundbite of “football brings people together.” Well, newsflash: it also brings opportunists, radicals, and the mentally unstable. That’s not fear-mongering—it’s fact. And governing with optimism instead of preparation isn’t leadership, it’s negligence in a tailored suit.
The driver has been detained. Investigation underway. Thoughts and prayers follow quickly, typed out between ribbon-cuttings and press junkets. But what about tomorrow? What about the next celebration, next game, next gathering?
What’s the plan, people?
Because if “business as usual” is what follows this, then Liverpool didn’t just lose control of a parade—it lost the plot.
And that’s a play Mr. 47 doesn’t clap for.
—Mr. 47
