Who I Am

I’m dyslexic. I’m autistic. I have ADHD. I was the kid school couldn’t reach—not because I didn’t try, but because the system couldn’t hear me. The methods didn’t work. The rules didn’t fit. The structure wasn’t built for minds like mine.

"School wasn’t the answer, so I educated myself."

That failure wasn’t just mine—it was the system’s. But in some strange way, it gave me an advantage. I didn’t learn how to follow steps; I learned how to build my own. I wasn’t taught how to solve problems the 'right' way—I learned how to understand them from the ground up.

That’s shaped how I see the world. Maybe the biggest problems we face—political dysfunction, social decay, even cruelty—aren’t just moral failings. Maybe they’re educational ones. Maybe we keep building broken systems because we keep teaching people to obey, not to think.

I’ve cared for a mother left behind by the NHS. I’ve supported survivors of domestic abuse who were failed by police, mental health services, and safeguarding structures. I’ve stood by people while institutions shrugged. I’ve filled the gaps they left. And then I’ve been told I don’t tick the right boxes for help myself.

I’ve lived through systemic failure—not in headlines, but in daily life. That’s where my politics come from.

"The system said ‘conform or fail.’ I did neither. I adapted."

This website, this party, this voice—it isn’t about building a cult of personality. It’s not about who I am. It’s about what I’ve seen. It’s about what happens when too many people are told to wait, to hush, to cope. It’s about the truth that most of the suffering in this country isn’t inevitable. It’s manufactured. Through policy. Through neglect. Through indifference dressed up as strategy.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But I ask the right questions. And I believe in systems that work, not slogans that sell. In repair, not in performance. In practical compassion.

"We don't need saints or saviours. We need systems that don't collapse when good people fall."

This isn’t about fame. This isn’t about me. This is about refusing to pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t. It’s about building something that’s honest, useful, and brave enough to admit what’s broken.

I’m one of many. I’m nobody special. And that’s exactly why I matter.

"Because when ordinary people speak clearly, the powerful can no longer pretend they don’t hear."

Just like you.
Just like all of us.

And yes—there’s a paradox here. I speak of accountability while choosing to remain unnamed. But anonymity isn’t absence. It’s intention. I’m not hiding from consequence; I’m stepping out of the way. So that what matters most, the truth, the failures, the ideas, can stand on their own. If something I’ve written here ever proves wrong, challenge it. If it rings true, act on it.

Take action.

That’s all the accountability I can offer; and maybe the only kind that ever really mattered.