Goywonder

Keen to unearth the more curious side of life in Norwich, Goy Wonder goes in search of a local BNP activist, to find out more about his politics.
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Standing outside the twee bookshop, tucked away in a bohemian part of Norwich city centre, it’s hard to imagine it could be a centre of fascist activity.

In fact, for a moment, I consider turning back. After all, I only read about the proprietor’s BNP connections on a public Facebook group – perhaps it’s all just a spiteful joke.

Finally, I pluck up the courage to open the hearty oak door and enter the shop.

I take a few minutes to rove around, perusing the shelves of second hand books. I spot novels by Orwell, Kureishi and Monica Ali – either fascists don’t get irony or they couldn’t care less.

After picking up two books, I make my way towards the counter. I hand them to a broad-shouldered man, probably in his fifties, with tanned arms and a strong jaw-line.

He wears a collared plaid shirt with smart-looking suede boots.

He greets me with a gravelly nod – a half-swallowed hello that reminds me of one of my old university lecturers.

“Excuse me, are you Richard Whittaker*?” I ask, as he hands over my change.

He freezes for a second, staring up at me and looking startled. For a moment, I regret the directness of my question. I’m not going to get anywhere by making him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he answers, after a few seconds of hesitation. He ends the word on a high, inquisitive note, rendering the word ‘why’ unnecessary.

Sensing his discomfort, I take a moment to introduce myself, telling him about my blog and why I’m looking for some interviewees.

I don’t tell him about the rumours I’ve heard online: about him being a coordinator of the local BNP, as well as hosting the party’s meetings in his bookshop premises.

“I’m really interested in profiling some of the more…” – I pause a second to think of the right word – “… interesting characters in Norwich.

“I was hoping to get an interview with someone from your party.”

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“From the BNP, you mean?” he asks.

I get an immediate sense of relief. I’ve found my man: a proud and loud, card-carrying BNP activist. I’m minutes away from my biggest scoop so far.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he chuckles, when I ask him about an interview.

“Why not?” I ask.

After all, BNP activists spent most of last month on the streets of Norwich, canvassing in support of their candidate for the Norwich North by-election  – the controversial “Reverend” Robert West. This sudden bout of camera-shyness seems odd.

Rather than answer the question, Richard tugs open the drawer of his antique desk. He pulls out a pile of tattered papers and hands me a couple from the top.

The first one in the pile is a postcard, printed by Unite Against Fascism, the long-standing activist group.

On one side is a printed picture of a swastika being tossed into a litter basket. On the other, scrawled in child-like capital letters, are the words ‘Fasist [sic] scum’. He then reads to me from a letter, ending with the sinister warning, “we’re watching you”.

“We prefer to keep a low profile, as you can imagine,” says Richard.

“Do you get a lot of bother then?” I ask politely.

“Oh, no end,” he says wearily. “The shop has been vandalised.  I’ve been spat at in the street. Before I go to bed, I have to unplug the telephone – it rings in the middle of the night.”

This is something that has always nagged me about the BNP. While I utterly reject their politics, I still believe in their right to exist and associate.

But, apparently, not everyone thinks like me: in fact the party’s website and forums are full of complaints about harassment from their opponents.

And in some ways it’s no surprise, given the far right party’s membership list was leaked on the internet last November. 13,000 names and addresses, including Richard’s, were posted on websites and forums across the globe.

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“Who do you think is behind it all – the abuse?” I ask.

“Unite Against Fascism,” he says, confidently.

My heart sinks slightly. For the first time in our interview, I really hope Richard is wrong. I’m troubled by the thought that an ‘anti-fascist’ group would make its point through a campaign of harassment, threats and criminal damage.

Still, it’s not like the BNP can assume the moral highground when it comes to criminal indiscretions. Here in Norwich, last month’s local newspapers carried a story of a young male who was violently assaulted after throwing a pint of water over a BNP activist.

“In fact, if you want to interview someone, you should interview that lot,” he says, jabbing his finger at the Unite Against Fascism logo.

I go to answer but Richard interrupts.

“And make sure you ask them why they hate the working class so much,” he booms.

There’s a short silence, as I think how to respond. This is the first time Richard has appeared angry or unpleasant in the interview. To my surprise, it’s he who breaks the silence.

“So tell me more about this blog.” he says cheerily.

I tell him about some of the people I hope to interview – including Robin Barratt, a former Norwich doorman turned true-crime best-seller, and a friend’s mother, who works as a professional dominatrix from her rural Norfolk village.

“It sounds like you’ve found the right people to interview,” he laughs.

He doesn’t seem offended – or even surprised – that I’ve singled him out as an intriguing interviewee too.

Richard tells me about some of his favourite blogs. He praises some well-known political blogs, including Guido Fawkes and Archbishop Cranmer.

“They have twice the intelligence of your average political hack – and ten times the balls,” he smiles.

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One thing I’m keen to find out from Richard is about his political past. I’ve always been intrigued by what draws people to support the BNP.

In the party’s literature, they talk about people becoming disaffected with the mainstream parties – with Labour and the Conservatives.

However, looking at the history of some of the parties prominent members, there is a different story.

Many of them – including Andrew Brons and Nick Griffin, the party’s two elected MEPs – were previously members of far-right organisations like the National Front.

“So what’s your political background then?” I ask Richard.

Again, the question feels a little too formal. I remind myself that Richard declined my request for an interview – that, in his mind, this is just an off the record chat. I make a note to be more subtle with my next question.

Richard takes a second before addressing the question. 

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“I don’t think that’s a particularly relevant question,”he says, sounding gruff and dismissive.

“I’m just interested. Were you ever a member of any other parties – the Tories, for example?” I ask.

Again, Richard takes a second to think about the question. To my surprise, he laughs to himself, making me desperate to find out more.

“Well, I did once flirt with Blairism,” he confesses, with another smoker’s chuckle. “ I thought for a moment he might be the answer.”

I’m stumped by this announcement. Throughout our chat, Richard has surprised more than once, but I’ve seen nothing to suggest he could be a Blairite (well, apart from that pithy soundbite about bloggers, anyway).

I’m just gearing myself up to probe Richard with more questions – like whether he would ever stand for office; or whether he’s met Nick Griffin, the party’s media-savvy leader – when he calls an end to our chat.

“Anyway,” he says, reaching for a tobacco tin from under his desk, “I need to have a cigarette. Then I need to shut this place and get to the Post Office before five o’ clock.”

He stands up and we walk out of the door together. As I turn to say goodbye, I catch another glimpse of the shops in the courtyard, with their redbrick walls, chalked signs and thatched roofs.

I think back to half an hour beforehand, when I was struggling to see how a fascist could ever fit in in a place like this.

Having met Richard, I’m no longer so confused. At times, Richard can come across as charming, well-read and intelligent – a man who could fit in anywhere if he tried.

And, in many ways, that makes him more sinister than ever.

Goy Wonder, 2009

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* Yes, I’ve changed Richard’s name. I’ve also avoided naming his shop. While I resent his politics, I have no desire to invade his privacy.

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