At dawn on the Monday, only two flags flew in Swifthill: a Union Jack outside the Cornerstone Garage, and a St George's Cross, the latter draped from a third floor flat on Kent Road. By the Saturday, the town was empty of people, but there were flags everywhere. You could put together some of what happened from social media posts.

Monday morning, Barry Smith and his mates were hanging St George's crosses, scurrying up and down one rickety ladder. Wobbly Facebook videos documented their work. It looked like a good time - a contrast to the animal rights lot in the shopping centre. They always seemed cold and miserable - as well as being a good advert for the benefits of meat.

Monday night, Alan Paulson was in the pub with friends. Gail Wright, sat opposite, said she wanted to do something. Alan had spent the night sneaking glances at her chest. He said he'd be up for helping her.

By Tuesday, local media had reported the campaign, and Barry celebrated with his mates at the Taj, washing down curries with lager. When someone cheeked the waiter, Barry made them apologise. It's not about race, it's about England, he said, and nothing's more English than a curry.

Tuesday evening, some tedious leftist shared footage of the flags on the high street at dusk. None of them reached very high because Barry's ladder wasn't that tall. "Is this what makes people proud," asked the voice over: "Cheap flags hanging at limp half-mast?"

Wednesday morning, Barry and his team were stretching out the bunting they'd had delivered. Some of the local snowflakes had a go, making out the flags were racist. Someone recorded the exchange. Barry told the group , "My great grandad died for that flag." A woman with dyed green hair scoffed. "I can understand dying for your family, but anyone dying for a piece of cloth is a mug."

The council's CCTV missed it happening, but the white circles of the mini roundabouts were improved with red lines. In Barry's Wednesday afternoon video, he was delighted, claiming that Swifthill might be the country's most patriotic town. He filmed a derelict building where the boards covering the windows had been whitewashed then decorated with crossed red lines.

Earlier that Wednesday, Alan and Gail Wright were putting up more flags. They decorated themselves with facepaint. That night, Gail shared Alan's WhatsApp video on her facebook, warning about flag rash. The cheap red make-up had left inflamed marks across his face.

Thursday lunchtime, the town had a carnival atmosphere. Barry and his mates had procured dozens of hot cross buns which they served up to passers-by. And, that afternoon, a parent from The Rise shared a video of a ladybird their children had found. The creature's carapace was decorated with what looked like an English cross.

Also on Thursday, flag sellers were going door-to-door. Ring doorbell videos have been shared and the Reddit true crime groups claim these people never lived in Swifthill.

In town, some drink had been partaken, and a row kicked off between Gail Wright and Barry Smith, Gail shouting Barry down for using flags made overseas, whereas hers came from a factory in Devon.

Overnight on Thursday, it was obvious something was happening. AI propaganda channels generated content about Swifthill. Examples of the fake content have been catalogued by activists. Some of them are bizarre, talking about 'strange things that are camouflaged as flags'. Nobody knows if the 'protective coloration' sequence was made by a Russia AI farm or a western artist.

Friday morning. On Facebook, someone shared a photo of a child's drawing. It showed an elongated human figure that the child said put the flags up at night.

That same morning, Barry Smith posted 'Great English (British!) Breakfast'. He was flag drunk by this point, had applied ketchup to make his plate more patriotic.

More AI-generated content turned up from who-knows-where. Juddery versions of Barry Smith re-enacted the Vindaloo music video from 1998. Another was called My Grandpa Has Turned into a Flag. Swifthill content was doing big numbers, which generated more of it.

Friday, the local morris team encouraged Barry and his gang into participating, because morris dancing is exactly the sort of tradition they're defending. Footage from a little later shows the awkwardness had gone. Flags everywhere but everybody's laughing, everybody's happy. This was the last thing posted by anyone from Swifthill.

The next day brought the first eerie clips of an empty town. All flags, no people. Then the authorities took over and placed a ban on communications. A few things leaked out, obviously faked. Bodycam footage appeared of police searching the empty streets, who found bunting tangling around their legs, snarling car wheels. The clips were said to have been shared first on private Telegram channels, but the official response is that they are AI-generated.

What happened to Swifthill is a mystery, but nobody is saying the flags caused it. It's just the flags are still there but the people aren't.

Background

The story isn't an attack on the flag craze as such, more about my own confused responses, in particular about how these things are stirred up on social media platforms.

There’s a classic piece of feedback used in creative writing workshops, one that never fails, which is to suggest removing the start and ending of any piece. Reading this, Andy Fraser pointed out my regular use of prolepsis, how I often describe the overall story in my first paragraph. I’ve kept this in, as I like how it frames things - it sets this out as an uncanny piece rather than a political one.

Recommendations

Long ago, February 1994, my friend Jules made a mix tape. On one side, she recorded the Wonder Stuff's new record, Construction for the Modern Idiot - a neglected classic, that.

On the B-side there's a mix. I’ve put a playlist for this on Spotify1. The songs are well curated. There's some well-known selections - Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds and the Lemonheads racing through Mrs Robinson. And then there's the oddities: Blur covering Maggie May from the NME’s 1992 Ruby Trax compilation. There's the Wonder Stuff covering country classic Will the Circle Be Unbroken?. Because of this tape, I still think that John Cale’s version of Hallelujah is the definitive. And then there’s the best track on the whole tape: Black Boys on Mopeds.

As a teenager, I had no idea about the death of Nicholas Bramble, but I’m haunted by the sadness of O’Connor’s response, and what it says about England. “England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses; it's the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds”. It’s a short, intense song and it’s haunted me ever since I first heard it.

There have been some amazing covers of the song, like this one from Shea Rose. And here’s one from Phoebe Bridgers.

I still have my original copy of the Jules Mix. While searching for it, I found Nicky’s Cool Tape, an incredible collection of Industrial Music that I probably received around 1997. I’m cautious about nostalgia, but I do think music sounds best on a well-chosen mix tape. It wasn’t just about picking the songs - you had to fit them onto two 45-minute sides, and it would take most of an evening to record one.

I wish I’d exchanged more of them with people.