Mr Woodhouse. My father was one of your immigrant/ refugee/ asylum seekers. He dressed differently, he was spat on in the street, told to go back to his own country. He worked hard in this country. I know without doubt he worked harder than you will ever do. Because of the horror he’d been through (that none of can begin to imagine) he raised his children to believe in what was right and wrong. His sons will always remember him. And we’ll always remember people like you.
All these folk who go on about not voting because they're all as bad as one another. You have to feel for them because they've not had a political home since the National Front ceased to exist.