As a gay American who once included the words liberal-eliting my life away in his dating profile, I’m not generally found at marches drifting in a sea of national flags. And yet last weekend, there I was at the Unite the Kingdom (UTK) rally, the closest I have ever come to a British football match—bopping along amid boisterous lads leading a constant chorus of “Keir Starmer’s a wanker” and drunk old geezers lying on the northern lawn of Parliament Square.
