There’s a Bright Future For Wales With Reform UK

James Downs

It’s 7.45am on Monday 6th June, 2030 – and I’m already late. The bus doesn’t run anymore – Reform axed all the subsidies to “free the market.”

Now our local service consists of a bloke called Dai who’ll give you a lift in his 2002 Ford Fiesta in exchange for a Gregg’s steak bake.

We crawl through town in heavy traffic. Radio Cymru doesn’t exist anymore – it was shut down as part of the “Unifying Voices” media programme. We listen to the only BBC radio station left – Nick Robinson tells us that “The Week in Woke” is coming up next, after a series of patriotic brass arrangements of Jerusalem. 

Between tracks, a newsreader announces: “another pedestrian has tragically died on the A465 after speed restrictions introduced by the previous Labour government were finally lifted last year.”

They add that “drivers are advised to remain alert while reclaiming their freedom,” without even a hint of irony. 

I step out of the car in front of the council offices, where I’ve worked for nearly 20 years. Only now it’s been rebranded as the “Local Government Efficiency Hub.”

Welsh Not

The bilingual signs were quietly removed last year as part of the Reform government’s “streamlining” agenda. Inside, we’re instructed to only use English in internal communications, “to maintain clarity and consistency.” 

A few of us still speak Welsh in the corridor, quietly, but it feels like we’re being watched. A colleague who used “diolch” in an email last month was told to consider how their tone might “affect perceptions of professionalism.”

Official targets for Cymraeg have been dropped entirely – no more strategy, no more funding, just a vague promise that “our proud history will be kept alive.” 

Provision for mental health was quietly dropped over the winter, too. “Life is difficult,” the Health Minister said, “and we must all do our bit to stop medicalising normal problems.”

Neurodivergent children are no longer diagnosed but placed on a “Resilience Through Routine” programme, which seems to involve colouring in maps of the British Empire and being taught to smile on command.

Suicides are up, but those figures have been deemed “non-compliant with data confidence targets” and are no longer published. At least the waiting lists are down.

I used to pop to the local library at lunchtime, but I’m less inclined now that it’s been renovated as one of the “Heritage Reading Rooms” sponsored by Wetherspoons.

The only books they seem to stock are Nigel Farage autobiographies and a special Reform UK storybook for under-5s called Let’s Stop the Boats!.

Rule Britannia

I head into the local café, instead. It used to be a nice vegan place – mostly oat milk and LGBTQ+ flags. That’s all illegal now. Today there’s a Meat Assurance Officer in attendance, checking the premises for traces of lentils.

Apparently the owner and her wife fled to Eryri to run an underground eco commune. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to join them, until the chicken sandwich I’d ordered arrives at the table. The taste’s not bad, but it somehow brings back strong memories of going to the swimming pool as a child.

In the afternoon, I work with my team on the latest fallout from the Mining Strategy. The coal mines reopened last summer – “Jobs for the Valleys!” they said, but the new tip above Ferndale caught fire in September and hasn’t stopped smoking since.

The kids at the nearby school are developing coughs that the new, privatised health app won’t diagnose unless you pay for the premium package.

Still, that didn’t stop the local Reform MS – now rebranded as a “People’s Advocate” – from holding a press conference next to a pile of slag and calling it “our beautiful British heritage.” 

I decide not to get a lift back with Dai after work, even though it’s a bit trickier to walk home these days. After doing away with the cycle paths, Reform have started to take the pavements up, too.

Still, it feels good to get outside, even if the air seems heavy. I reassure myself that there are only a few more days of the week to go before the weekend – a welcome bit of freedom from all the mess at work. 

I’ll need all the strength I can to get through next week’s big event – the launch of the new school curriculum.

Welsh history is out, replaced by “Shared Britannic Values.” On Monday, the whole office has been instructed to attend Nigel’s parachute onto the top of Pen y Fan in a Union Jack wingsuit while Dame Katherine Jenkins sings Rule Britannia from a drone. 

I check Monday’s weather forecast: heavy rain and a red warning for coal dust. What a terrible shame.

James Downs is a mental health campaigner, researcher and expert by experience in eating disorders.

He lives in Cardiff and can be contacted at @jamesldowns on X and Instagram, or via his website: jamesdowns.co.uk