Kneecap. No, not the medical term;  in this case, it’s a group of rap artists who’ve decided to play dress-up in balaclavas and shout “Brits Out!” as if it’s still 1972. These lads have built their image on the back of physical force republicanism, wrapping themselves in the Irish tricolour and prancing about like pretend soldiers. They act like the British Army’s still patrolling Northern Ireland, ignoring the fact that they packed up and left over 15 years ago after the successful signing of the GFA (Good Friday Agreement) The only “Brits” left are their neighbours, friends, and colleagues—ordinary people whose taxes, ironically, Kneecap are all too eager to pocket.

 For all their anti-British bluster, these so-called rebels have no problem turning up with their hands out when there’s money on offer from the very government they claim to despise. Imagine a teenager who spends all day whining about how awful his parents are, but still expects a lift to the cinema and a shiny new smartphone. That’s Kneecap in a nutshell—big talk, but when the cash is on the table, they’re all too happy to pocket it.

Let’s put it in perspective. The £15,000 they’re after is about three times what the average Brit household pays in income tax each year. Hard-earned money from people who’d probably rather see it spent on something useful—like schools or hospitals—not on a group trying to bring back the symbols of one of the most savage terrorist organisations in modern history.

And where does this hypocrisy hit hardest? In their glorification of a name that brings horror to those who lived through the Troubles. Kneecapping wasn’t just a word;  it was brutal beatings and mutilations. Let’s talk about Malachi, a 16-year-old kid who loved playing music with his pals in Falls Park. The IRA didn’t see a teenager having fun. They saw a target. They chased him, beat him to a pulp, and poured glue over his head. By the time his father brought him to the Fait (Families Against Intimidation and Terror) office, where his testimony was recorded, he looked like a survivor from a concentration camp—battered, black and blue, a shivering wreck.

But the torture didn’t end there. They tormented Malachi every time he stepped outside. Eventually, the intimidation and threats became too much. He strung a rope from his attic loft and hung himself. All for the crime of playing music and drinking some tinnies.

What’s sickening is the deliberate choice of name for the band—Kneecap—a glorification of the very people who drove Malachi to take his own life. And to hear celebrities like Noel Gallagher idolise them shows just how little they understand about the horrors the IRA inflicted on kids like Malachi.

So, there you have it. Kneecap— A sick tribute to the thugs who terrorised innocent kids. Don’t be fooled by the chants and the balaclavas. This isn’t rebellion. It’s cowardice dressed up as something noble. And it stinks to high heaven.