THE working class in Britain is being silenced and the worst part is, it’s not just the Tories doing it. The very people who claim to stand for workers — trade unions, left-wing groups, even progressive activists — are wiping out the raw, unfiltered humour that has always been a cornerstone of working-class life.

This isn’t progress; it’s the middle-class takeover of working-class resistance. As unions and left-wing politics get flooded with university graduates, real working-class voices are being pushed aside in favour of polite, sanitised, middle-class-approved speech. And if this keeps up, working-class politics will be gutted.

Working-class humour has never just been about jokes. It’s how workers survive, cope, and fight back.

Our music halls gave birth to satire that mocked the powerful while comforting the oppressed. Marie Lloyd’s cheeky songs about poverty and pregnancy resonated because they spoke truth wrapped in laughter — making people laugh because the truth was too brutal to face head-on. Shows like Auf Wiedersehen, Pet showed how workers used humour to get through brutal jobs.

During the 1984 miners’ strike, jokes and songs kept spirits up even as police cracked down. One miner put it simply: “We laughed because if we didn’t, we’d have cried.”

Today, comedians like Jason Manford and Bob Mortimer keep that tradition alive, mocking the rich and powerful instead of punching down at the poor.

But three forces are killing this vital part of working-class culture:

(1) Unions turning into HR departments — instead of fighting bosses, some union reps now obsess over “inclusive language.” One was disciplined for calling a greedy employer a “money-grabbing bastard” — phrases that were standard in the hard-hitting strikes of the ’70s.

(2) Comedy getting gentrified — working-class comics are told to be “authentic but not offensive,” while posh comedians like James Corden get praised for making fun of working-class life.

(3) The left becoming a “graduate club” — as Labour and unions fill up with university-educated professionals, working-class humour gets labelled “problematic.” The result? Left-wing groups are losing touch with the people they claim to represent.

This isn’t just about jokes, it’s about power. The labour movement’s biggest wins came when workers mixed fierce politics with fearless humour. The dockers who won the 1889 strike didn’t do it with sensitivity workshops, they did it with solidarity, rough language and songs that mocked their bosses.

Now, the left is becoming exactly what the ruling class wants: a polite, bureaucratic movement that doesn’t scare them. As Gramsci warned, when workers lose their culture, they lose their ability to fight back.

Here’s how we fight back:

Protect working-class spaces — stand up for pubs, clubs and comedy nights where real working-class humour still thrives.

Push back against the language police — when someone gets scolded for “unprofessional” language, ask: who benefits from silencing workers?

Reclaim our radical roots — bring back the defiant spirit of the matchwomen’s songs and the sharp wit of shows like The Rag Trade.

The rich have always feared workers’ laughter. When we mock their greed and find joy in solidarity, we show our strength.

The left has a choice: will it help free the working class or will it help silence them? As the comedian Bobby Ball said: “If they can make you stop laughing, they can make you stop fighting.”

It’s time to ignore the middle-class scolds and fight back with every tool we’ve got, including our humour.