And Vickers launched forth into a tirade very different from his platform utterances. He spoke with extreme contempt of the dense stupidity exhibited on all occasions by the working classes. He said that if you wanted to do anything for them, you must rule them, not pamper them. Soft heartedness caused more harm than good.

For him, his claim to authentic skinheadism is the primacy of his skinhead allegiance, unlike fashion skins, who only exist within the limits of gay subculture, their skinhead identity being secondary to their sexuality.

And he is bending in the wind, scooping pitch, growling. […] He plays his false fingers. Chokes the trumpet. He is naked. This is naked jazz. O-bop-she-bam. Never lying. Telling it like it is.

William Pitt in power! war in Europe! small constituencies, and small bread! (Loud cheers.) But what is the state of the case at the present time—what the condition of the coroneted breadmonger now?