The clip of Big John – a figure exuding calm, thoughtful confidence – speaking from the heart of Britain’s rich cultural mosaic is a breath of fresh air. In it, he reminds us that Britain is great because people from all different backgrounds make it so. The resonance of that message in 2025 cannot be overstated. Whether you’re a second-generation immigrant in Yorkshire or a Nigerian-born Londoner running your own startup, his plea is simple, powerful, and necessary.
Contrast this with Tom Skinner, the reality-TV darling turned social media provocateur, who similarly punctuates every sign of personal success with a cheeky “bosh”, but with his own tinge of divisiveness. He fawns over the unrealistic “good old days,” subtly pushing a divisive message under the guise of working-class authenticity. As articulated by The Independent, Skinner rose to digital fame with motivational shots of him in East London, often at his own café, but his content veered into politics – praising Trump, claiming London is unsafe, weighing in negatively on migrant accommodations – and attracting backlash for veering into populism and misinformation.
Big John is the antidote to that. His view isn’t rooted in fawning over an idealised past – it’s a forward-looking embrace of every corner of Britain. The message being intoxicating, not with nostalgia, but with possibility.
A glance at the social media reaction around Big John’s clip – especially from his Instagram feed where he echoes inclusive values – reveals genuine warmth. It’s less performative noise, more genuine conversation. Skinner’s followers might cheer at “bosh!” moments, but Big John’s supporters are prompted to reflect, engage, and consider how modern Britain must evolve.
The deeper problem with Skinner’s appeal is that it thrives on fear and simplistic binaries: “us vs them,” past vs present, pure vs impure. Nostalgia politics isn’t a tonic – it’s toxic. It thrives by suggesting that community cohesion stems from exclusion, or by romanticising a Britain that never truly existed. In contrast, Big John’s inclusive message reflects the lived reality of this island nation – neither perfect nor pristine, but made strong by its complexity.
Ultimately, this isn’t just about two public figures or two catchphrases. It’s about the direction we choose for Britain’s future. Do we drift toward a diminished nostalgia, weaponised for division? Or do we lean into the rich, inclusive, evolving tapestry that defines our nation today?
Big John’s message delivers the tonic. It reminds us that Britain’s greatness lies not in looking backwards but in recognising the strength of its diversity – and nurturing it.