Reform’s Danny Kruger answers the simple question that stumped Starmer By

Alex Story

October 7, 2025

SOME questions are difficult to answer, others not. For Starmer, the seemingly easiest ones are the most difficult.

During a recent press briefing with President Trump at Chequers, a reporter asked a simple question: ‘Are we still a Christian country?’

A patriotic man would have said: ‘Yes’.

He would have known implicitly that our laws, their application and our constitution, as Edmund Burke and many before him believed, were built on the inescapable Good Book. Indeed, the 1689 Bill of Rights stands on that hitherto unquestionable foundation.

That same man might have said, as Reform’s new MP Danny Kruger did in an empty House last July: ‘Uniquely among the nations of the world, this nation – England, from which the United Kingdom grew – was founded and created consciously on the basis of the Bible and the story of the Hebrew people . . . The story of England is the story of Christianity operating on a people to make the institutions and culture that have been uniquely stable and successful.’

To our patriotic gentleman, the idea of a secular space, that umbilical cord which feeds our fragile freedoms, is a ‘Christian concept that is meaningful only in a Christian world’ able to thrive solely under the protection of a Christian shield.

Without that metaphysical underpinning, the worship of human rights per se, as an example, is ‘to worship fairies’, as Kruger phrased it, which denies, when applied, our country her borders, our soldiers our protection, and us our sovereignty.

Our identity is forged in the inescapable crucible of time. Our hymns enable us, among other art forms, to understand who we are. They are bridges that transport our national soul from the deepest darkest past to the distant future. It is our duty never to falter in this Sisyphean task.

‘I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, till we have built Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant land’, as Blake wrote centuries ago. His anthem rouses every heart as its echoes among ‘these dark Satanic mills’ can still be heard, fading.

‘Are we still a Christian country?’

The easiest question for a patriot to answer.

But not for one who isn’t. Indeed, when the troubling question hit Keir’s ears, he froze. ‘Yeah,’ he blurted. ‘Look, I mean in terms of whether we’re a Christian country . . . um . . . I was [inaudible], so . . . um . . . that is . . . um . . . my church has been . . . um . . . all my life and we are, you know, that is wired into our informal constitution.’

No Shakespeare, our Keir.

To some charitable souls, he was merely the proverbial rabbit in headlights. To others, he was evading, triangulating, forever politicising. Betraying your people, you see, requires deception, opacity and obfuscation. This recipe is daily fare for Keir. The reporter’s simple question revealed our Prime Minister, forcing him into the light.

Having worked so hard over decades to undermine the Britain he loathes (the one Blake wrote about), Starmer is beholden to internal sectarian interests due to a tidal wave of ‘foreigners’, as Marco Rubio, US Secretary of State, recently phrased it.

Starmer, like many, signed a pact with the Diversity Devil to ‘rub the Right’s nose’ in it to dismantle the Old Country. The aim was to kill off Tory Britain for ever. The motivation was vengeance, in part, to punish the class traitors who dared to vote Labour out of power in 1979. The mechanism would be the implementation of ‘multiculturalism’, the innocent-sounding but devastating concept which would inevitably lead to the Balkanisation of our islands.

In practice, laws are no longer blind. Their application depends on your background, religion and ethnicity. Parliament now only has a theoretical power to legislate. The police interpret, and sometimes participate in, the de facto application of customs hitherto unknown, sometimes illegal and often deeply antithetical to our inherited moral code.

It is not just that Starmer believes in two-tier justice, it is that he rejects the idea of Great Britain as we understand it. In his eyes, every culture is equivalent and has an equal claim to the islands. To hammer the point home unwittingly during the press briefing, he added: ‘We celebrate many other faiths as well and I’m really proud that we’re able to do so as a country.’

That is because Starmer is ‘Godless’ – his choice of words. Indeed, standing by a purple-haired vicaress in St Martin-in-the-Fields in summer 2024, he mused: ‘I can see the power of faith and the way it brings people together’, much as would a playground, snooker hall or ‘youth centre’.

Further, a few years before, Starmer disclosed that while he may ‘not believe in God’, he does ‘believe in faith’.

Here is a man who has faith in belief and belief in faith. That is to say, he ‘believes in belief’ and has ‘faith in faith’, revealing himself to be a walking tautology, the intellectual equivalent of a rat on a wheel. However, he does believe religiously ‘in the power of the state’. Dangerously for us, he doesn’t know, or say, which faith, belief or religion should underpin that power, each, from his perspective, being equal to the next one.

This observable absurdity is believed with the conviction of converts by sociologists, economists and sundry experts, these modern-day alchemists of doom. For them, religion comes after civilisation, not the other way round.

Keir wouldn’t know the theological equivalent of his elbow and his backside. But he believes deeply in his conviction that all faiths are equal against all historical evidence.

What he does know is that those ‘who sow division’, that is, who do not accept the empty ship that a de-Christianised Starmerite Britain implies, stand in the way of a revolutionised state, unhinged from its fundamental core, are its obstreperous enemies and will be treated as such.

As Danny Kruger suggested in Parliament, Starmer’s religious doctrine of a faithless state has succeeded only in deconstructing our world, leading to the inversely reciprocal growth of both Islam and what Kruger called a ‘combination of ancient paganism, Christian heresies and the cult of modernism’. Both are deeply hostile to the ‘objects of our affections and our loyalties: families, communities and nations’.

Asked the same question by the reporter, Kruger would have said ‘Yes’ with the conviction of a patriot. And we would have cheered. Unfortunately . . . four more years.

This article appeared in Country Squire Magazine on October 2, 2025, and is republished by kind permission.