First they came for The Meal Deal and I did not speak out
The medieval psychology of Loyalism’s Tesco Derangement Syndrome
Across the board, Unionism has gone from political primacy to paranoid curtain twitching. An addict smoking stepped on shit. Back in the day, you could get the proper hard stuff, that real Orange shit that’d have you marching all the way up Garvaghy Road or running around naked in Drumcree. That stuff would have you so out of your mind you could throw a balloon full of piss at a schoolgirl at Holycross and the cops wouldn’t even stop you — fucking lethal mate.
Now the shit is so dirty. Low-potency muck that’d have you paranoid in the supermarket, glaring at the packaging of a heavily processed BLT.
The collapse of Unionism is nothing new, it’s not a question of ‘if’ anymore, merely a question of ‘when’. The purpose of this short essay is not to speculate on Unionism’s decline, or whether or not it will go gentle into that good night, but rather to point out a recurring trend — Loyalist’s continual high expectations of and furious disappointment with English supermarket giant Tesco.
Loyalism, in particular its siege mentality component, is very old. The first planters in Ulster lived in fortified settlements, points of godly British light in a primordial darkness inhabited by wild, Gaeilge-speaking infidels. Everything outside of their townships was hostile. Physically, culturally, and most terrifying of all, spiritually.
A sleepless evil has always waited for god’s chosen just beyond the walls, be they the walls of Derry in 1689 or the peace lines of Belfast in 2024. Thus, Loyalism clings to a long-established political demonology to keep the external corruption at bay and weed out the ‘Lundy’ (traitor) within. However, in its ancientness this idea seems to be growing demented, lashing out at retailers rather than Romanists, and bracing itself not for Fenian guerillas, but for the Fenian sandwiches that now stream freely across the porous border with the godless South.
This malign conspiracy to subvert the great British supermarket appears to be the result of a wider cabal-style initiative by Unionism’s enemies. A grocery store Gallipoli in a wider onslaught by dark forces, at least according to the Loyalist plot-spotters on X.
As the Loyalist community becomes increasingly untethered from a cold and fragmented “United Kingdom”, it stumbles back into a familiar primordial night. In that old darkness, heretics and traitors abound, from Leinster House and the White House to Brussels, from Downing Street to Tesco HQ.
The chain has previously been accused of unpatriotically deciding not to stock merchandise for the now-dead Elizabeth Windsor’s Platinum Jubilee. Worse again, the compromised retailer even snubbed British servicemen by leaving NI stores out of a UK-wide free breakfast promotion for military personnel.
The idea of a ‘pernicious’ conspiracy against the salt-of-the-earth Ulster Protestants is as old as the plantations. Calling out ‘the plot’ is a surefire way for Unionist politicians to appear strong on cultural erosion, even if said erosion comes with selected crisps and a drink.
In reality, the sum total of the ‘plot’ is just basic business. Both in terms of the pragmatic reading-of-the-room by Tesco’s marketing team and the gobshite political machinations of Unionist politicians themselves (Brexit).
This ‘plot’ paranoia runs parallel to the old notion, that in their honesty and pragmatism, Ulster Protestants can neither fathom nor effectively counter the nefarious propaganda of the Fenians and their cronies — In essence; “modern loyalism isn’t floundering and losing appeal, you’re just conspiring against it.”
This assertion is merely a self-effacing crutch leant on by a washed-up Unionist political class and their boring ideas.
The true injury being expressed (to Tesco) here is a wounding of pride. A community that once faithfully filled the boots and coffins of Empire must now reckon with the humiliation of Sausage Wars, Seaborders, Supermarket duplicity, and a Westminster government that wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire.
For centuries when Unionism dreamt of death, it dreamt of dying on the bawn wall, NEVER surrendering to the vile and vermin-like enemy. Now, it seems likely its detachment from Britain will be that of some neglected battlement, silently crumbling and falling away from a rotting cyclopean keep — petty tantrums and pointless outrage, the groaning of decrepit colonial masonry.
Jubilees and servicemen are not sacrosanct in NI anymore, and Tesco knows that. As for the BLT-IRA sandwich options now filling the shelves in Tesco, those are a direct by-product of the economic conniption fit and resulting closer ties with the South that the DUP helped impose on their jurisdiction.
It is a grim, many would say terminal, chapter for Unionism, and perhaps Tesco is the last truly red white, and blue institution left in the North. The Shinners run Stormont and the PSNI are doing doughnuts with Armagh fans after the All-Ireland. This leaves loyalist commentators like Jamie Bryson searching for Britannia in the bread aisle as the darkness rolls like smoke once more, to the foot of the wall.