Typically living in the most rundown, shithole of a housing estate, rusted washing machine on the lawn, cracked and broken render despite the place only being built 4 years ago, rubbish everywhere, portly 50 something man in the doorway at 2pm on a Wednesday having just got up from the previous night’s special brews in front of GB News, unlit but half smoked rollie dangling from his lips as he sneers at the non-white Amazon driver who delivers his next pack of red markers so he draw another st George’s cross on the mini roundabout at the entrance of the estate and stick it to the wokes.