This appeared to have all changed within months, however, as Robertson began working with Byline Times on a series of interviews prior to the festival, in which he made fresh allegations, including that Robinson’s team paid corrupt police officers to obtain the addresses of anti-fascists, who were then harassed. No wonder the Sky interviewer, Niall Paterson, declared himself unconvinced by Robertson’s apparent repentance. Looking back at the Westminster footage in a Sky interview in January this year, Caolan declared it “so cringe.”ĭuring the course of the interview, Robertson also set fire to a copy of the Guardian on air, illustrating his apparent disgust for the liberal-left media. Three months later Darren Osborne, who a court heard was radicalised in part by Robinson’s output, committed the Finsbury Park mosque attack. “Everything to do with Islam!” Robertson suddenly jumps in to echo, with an oddly incongruous finger snap. Robinson, in a too-tight military-style Stone Island black coat (presumably picked out by Robertson), is positively pop-eyed, ranting about being at war, and the attack having “everything to do with Islam.” In the footage, Robertson is oddly unconvincing even as he shouts about the perpetrator being of “Asian origin - when you get a culture, you get a culture! A culture of violence, destruction and terrorism!” The two men had rushed to the scene to cash in on the horror of the terrorist attack there. Robinson quickly put them to work: “We started to rebrand him as cool and alternative and edgy and started to do cool trailers which were highly stylised and cinematic,” Robertson told Byline.įrom the outside, Robertson was only ever a minor figure in far-right circles, and best known for dramatic fallings-out with former colleagues and explosive accusations, as well as one notorious on-camera appearance with his boss - on Westminster Bridge in March 2017. The couple invited Robinson to visit them in Chelsea, and he was evidently there like a shot (and, true to form, hit them up for his train fare home). Robertson’s quest for celebrity wasn’t getting him far, however, until he and partner George Llewellyn-John came up with the idea of attaching themselves to champion far-right grifter Tommy Robinson. On it, Robertson admitted the lavish lifestyle he portrayed on YouTube was a facade, paid for by credit: “Just other people’s money,” he said of his £5,000 debt and for a young man from a well-off family who was soon to set up home in Chelsea, it was probably fairly small change. His first real break was on Channel 4 documentary Shut Up Your Facebook, about people addicted to online fame.
There are numerous examples, here and abroad and going back decades, of fascists who have become sincerely anti-fascist.īefore his flirtation with extremism, he was a would-be reality TV star, regularly filming himself and friends living the high life in Leeds, for what he claims was a popular YouTube strand. But I was assured Robertson was fully repentant and about to blow the whistle, loudly, on Tommy Robinson and his gang. Three days beforehand, I had discovered Robertson was a surprise (to me, anyway) addition to the panel. I was there to talk about far-right networks and funding. Questions about Johnson’s closeness to the far right’s networks of power and money, here and abroad, have been asked for some time - yet here we are, living under one of the most undemocratic regimes Britain has experienced since the civil war.Īt the festival, over in the metaphorical red corner, I present a considerably less glamorous appearance. Steve Bannon has worked with both men and Johnson’s digital campaigns adviser, Chloe Westley, notoriously endorsed another far-right associate of Robertson’s, Anne Marie Waters of For Britain, calling her a “hero.” I have approached the PM’s office for comment, but true or not, they share contacts. Robertson even claims to be currently making videos for PM Boris Johnson. Here on the Byline Festival stage, an event which took place at the end of last month, he says he plans to make up for his wrongdoing, and disappear from public life - but off stage later, he networks ruthlessly, posting selfies with assorted media folk and, as I will discover, planning his next career move.
Robertson has supposedly had a major change of heart. He looks more like the member of a boy band that never quite made it than what he purports to be: the man who rebranded “Tommy Robinson” (Stephen Lennon), taking him from washed-up EDL founder to millionaire poster boy for the far right star: “I dressed him for two years - I made videos for him, with high production values, that I knew would appeal to a new audience.” IN THE festival marquee, Caolan Robertson’s smile is as white as his pristine sweatshirt.