Taste of Your Own Medicine


Dominic Lawson wrote in the Daily Mail on Monday how Extinction Rebellion Founder Roger Hallam was one of the coordinators of Insulate Britain, the idiots blocking Britain’s motorways. Dominic wrote how:

‘Hallam – the actual founder of Insulate Britain – has not put himself out. This is the Roger Hallam who has been telling his acolytes what to do either from his partner’s South London flat or from his ten-acre farm in Wales.’

Dominic continued:

‘He gravitates between these two places, though how these frequent trips are made, in terms of road or rail use, is not known. (Five diesel-powered vehicles have been seen parked on his farm, but he insists none is his.)’

Well, as fate would have it I was on the westbound M5 Motorway on Monday – some time after lunch near Bristol – and noticed some muppet swerving around in the middle lane next to me. When I looked across from the fast lane I could see a scruffy and bearded individual rummaging through a family size bag of crisps which were perched on his steering wheel. This man was driving an old silver Nissan Qashqai with a driver’s side wing mirror (ironically as it turned out) held together by insulation tape. This scruff looked somewhat familiar. I wondered whether I had bumped into him at one of the homeless charities I volunteer for.

As the traffic slowed around the Filton junction, the Nissan managed to get temporarily ahead of me while staying in the middle lane and I couldn’t help but notice that it had a black Extinction Rebellion logo just to the right side of its rear numberplate. That was when I realised, as again I passed in front, that the dangerous driver of the car was none other than Roger Hallam.

As we headed further down the M5 together in the direction of Taunton I then clocked rather a lot of newish Vauxhalls in various lanes in the vicinity, driven by sunglassed individuals. I was glad that this troublemaker was being so visibly tailed and surely he must have noticed.

It was then that Hallam indicated to get into the fast lane behind me. The traffic was starting to move again. Then it dawned on me….

With trucks clogging the middle and slow lanes I now controlled the westbound M5. And who was now up my rear? The man who has personally caused so much misery to so many. Roger Hallam. The man who openly states that – were he to partake in Insulate Britain protests himself rather than cowardly organising them from afar – he would have refused to move if there was someone dying in an ambulance delayed by them. As Dominic Lawson put it in his article:

‘So you see, while he claims to be acting in the interests of suffering humanity, Mr Hallam is a callous man, and one who seems to obtain satisfaction in the contemplation of violence (performed by others, not himself, naturally). A year ago, he was recorded telling his followers that the ‘people who run society, run big business’ whom he judged ‘culpable … for the climate catastrophe …maybe you should put a bullet through their head’

What a charmer.

Carpe diem, I thought to myself…. if ever someone needed a fat dose of karma.

So my build up to seventy was somewhat slower than my rather powerful 4X4 permits. Extraordinary, as it’s normally so quick off the mark. Let’s say it took rather a while to get to sixty and a hell of a while longer to get to seventy.

Few cars were in the vicinity, so I was hardly causing a tailback. Nor was I driving illegally as I gradually reached the speed limit. And as I watched in my rear-view mirror I could see my go-slow was definitely working. A mere thirty seconds in and Old Hallam’s crisp-stained hands were already gesticulating. A little longer and the crusty’s blood pressure was clearly rising. His face seemed even more contorted than usual and he looked even more like a long-haired rat.

And then I zoomed away, covering him in clouds of capitalist diesel. And how I chuckled all the way down to Wellington and off into sunny Devon.

Mr Hallam, you are a cock. Your group’s protests are a disgrace. And you really must redo your test at the earliest opportunity – your driving is quite atrocious.

Dominic Wightman is the Editor of Country Squire Magazine.