Anglofuturism: Britain Rebooted with a Jolly Good Bang!

I say, it seems Blighty isn’t content to mope about the parlour any longer, drinking cold tea and muttering about lost glories. No sir! A new wind is blowing across the sceptered isle a breeze of optimism, invention, and dashing civilisational get-up-and-go. The name of this rather spiffing movement? Anglofuturism, old sport!

It all began, as all good revolutions do, with a chap scribbling in a well-worn armchair. One Aris Roussinos, writing in UnHerd back in 2022, piped up with the splendid notion that Britain might, rather than shuffle gloomily into the sunset, jolly well build a future worth toasting with a fine brandy.

Heavens, what a lark! But unlike most bluster from the broadsheets, this wasn’t just foggy chinwag. Oh no. This was the seed of something bracing. Anglofuturism says: chin up, toolkit out, and let’s show the galaxy how the British do things properly.

To The Stars!

At its core, Anglofuturism is like your favourite butler, reliable, dignified, and possessing a surprising knack for orbital logistics. It blends the best of Britain’s old-school vim (stoicism, wit, duty, civility) with a rakish embrace of the technological tomorrows. Tea in zero gravity? Naturally. A battered space freighter maintained with handwritten ledgers and iron discipline? Spiffing.

While the cyberpunks are all neon and nihilism, to an Anglofuturist, to build among the stars is to safeguard the future, planting legacies for generations who will never know our names, and who one day, will call starlight home.

Tally-Ho! The Movement Rumbles Forth

From those early scribbles in UnHerd, the idea spread like warm crumpets on a rainy afternoon. The Mallard chimed in, declaring Anglofuturism a “mental model” for chaps and chapettes tired of cultural drift. CapX wasn’t far behind, calling it “the key to reversing our decline” and who can argue with that?

Soon came the Substack, dashingly curated by the sterling duo of Tom Ough and Calum Drysdale. A podcast followed, brimful of essays, dispatches, and hearty chunterings about virtue, architecture, and other matters of high importance. If one ever wished to mix His Majesty’s postal service with interstellar trade routes, this is the place.

And what ho! The political class took note! In January 2025, UnHerd once more cried “Hurrah!” for the movement, asking if it might liberate Britain from its slough of despond. Come June, ConservativeHome practically burst into song, wondering if Anglofuturism might just be the secret tonic the Tories have needed all along. Then, like a Brigadier with a glint in his eye and a telegram from the King, in bounded Robert Jenrick, proudly proclaiming himself an Anglofuturist. Woof!

Style, Substance, and a Splash of Bravado

Part of what makes Anglofuturism such a corker is its aesthetic. Picture this: polished brass terminals, neo-Gothic arches of data, and parchment-toned dashboards all arranged with the tidy precision of a Royal Engineers’ parade ground. The fonts? Serifed with the dignity of a High Court judge and the dash of a racing cravat. The future, my dear reader, ought not look like a nightclub for robots. It can look beautiful.

And it’s not all form and no function, either. There’s a whole digital platforms brewing complete with Substack articles, Podcasts, positive news,and life-learning modules for the well-intentioned cadet.

A Future Worth Dressing Up For

Make no mistake: this isn’t nostalgia dressed up in hover-boots. This is cultural renewal with brass buttons polished. It’s optimism with a firm handshake and a pocket watch. Anglofuturism doesn’t shy from complexity, but it does suggest that perhaps, just perhaps, Britain can be more than a museum of itself. It can once again lead, inspire, and jolly well get things done.

So here’s to a future of grit, grandeur, and galloping gumption. The stars await, and by Jove, we’ll meet them in a three-piece suit, with purpose in our stride and Earl Grey in our flasks.

Tally-ho, civilisation! Anglofuturism rides out!