BNP protests descend into chaos at BBC Television Centre
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It started off quietly enough, with a small band of protesters waving anti Nazi placards and chanting outside BBC Television Centre in the mild October afternoon.
But by 4.30pm, the scene outside the Corporation’s White City campus had descended into chaos.
As the hour of Nick Griffin’s arrival inched closer, more than 800 demonstrators spilled from the pavement, bringing traffic to a standstill and catching the police off guard.
Buses were marooned in a sea of angry faces, orange smoke flares were fired and officers scrabbled around to maintain control.
At least 25 demonstrators who had burst into the BBC had to be frogmarched from the building by police and security staff. It was not pretty.
Throughout the day, protesters from United Against Fascism, the Socialist Worker and Stop the War Coalition gathered outside the sprawling BBC site.
Their target was the front entrance of Television Centre, where they held placards and shouted anti BNP slogans.
The Question Time producers had decided to hold the programme in London for the first time in four years to enable the police to keep tight control.
Around 300 police officers at an estimated cost of £100,000 were placed on standby, while the BBC employed 60 extra security staff.
Guards at the nearby Westfield shopping centre were also on alert against potential troublemakers.
By 3pm, 300 people were holding forth, backeded by the local Labour MP Andy Slaughter, students from Goldsmiths, University of London and several well dressed supporters.
Doris Page, 73, a retired health worker, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939, said: “My family was killed in the gas chambers of Auschwitz.
“The BBC has not learned from history. Hitler grew from a very small start.
“People think fascism has gone away but it hasn’t: it has just taken a different form and what we are seeing here is a sinister transfer of power to the BNP thanks to the BBC.”
It was all looking rather tame, until a few keen eyed protesters noticed that the wrought iron gates 50 yards down the street had been left open.
At 4.31pm, about 40 of them made a run for it, vaulting over the red and white barriers and bolting across the car park into reception, much to the cheers and delight of those standing outside.
As one was marched from the building, he shouted: “This is what they do to protect the Nazis. Shame on you, BBC.”
While half were ejected almost immediately and the gates swiftly shut, a few managed to linger in the corridors a little longer.
Among them was 20-year-old Siobhan, who emerged 20 minutes later, out of breath, but exhilarated by her security breach.
“They were completely surprised,” she said. “We were surrounded by police before they threw us out. The BBC has given Nick Griffin a platform he does not deserve.”
The successful charge galvanised the rest of the crowd, which by now had swelled to more than 800.
They charged the thin line of police now standing in front of the gates, shoving officers as they knocked helmets from their heads.
Police reinforcements found it difficult to struggle through the surging mass, so several vaulted – looking rather ungainly - over the 15 ft gates to join their colleagues, to the amusement of the crowd.
By now scores of officers who had been on standby in nearby riot vans were called into action, but they did not count on the demonstrators breaking loose from the pavement and dashing down Wood Lane, forcing traffic to a halt.
At 4.45pm, the scene grew farcical as police officers in their bright yellow coats set off on foot after the rampaging crowd.
Having reclaimed the street, the demonstrators realised this protest was going rather better than planned.
As they rushed the officers and set off orange smoke flares, a line of people waiting quietly to get into the audience of Harry Hill's TV Burp looked on, nervously.
Kirsty Rollings, 21, from Canterbury, said: “It is quite intimidating really, especially when they all ran past us waving their bits of wood.”
Asked what she thought of Mr Griffin’s appearance on Question Time, she replied: “I don’t know really – politics isn’t really my thing.”
But for the throng just yards away, their politics were in full force.
One demonstrator grabbed a microphone, called for hush and in a voice trembling with excitement, said: “Nick Griffin has just gone on Sky News. What he is saying is that he is not going to fight his way through into the television studios.
“We must stay here, on the roads, until 10pm and hold the line. Hold the line.”
His words were drowned out with whoops and cheers from the cheering crowd: “United, united, we will not be defeated.”
With only a few minutes to go until 5pm, the protesters believed there was a real chance that they could stop Enemy Number One from getting through.
But Mr Griffin had not waited to go on Question Time this long to give up at the first sign of trouble.
At 5.17pm, a silent convoy of nine vehicles – including three transit vans – pulled up outside a back entrance of the BBC on Frithville Road.
With no way of getting his entire entourage through the gates, Mr Griffin, dressed in a grey suit and poppy, stepped out into the street.
As he did so, more than 30 minders, many of whom sporting shaved heads, swarmed around him, outnumbering the police two to one.
With not a protester in site, he slipped into Television Centre without a jeer, his detractors still rejoicing unaware around the corner.
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It started off quietly enough, with a small band of protesters waving anti Nazi placards and chanting outside BBC Television Centre in the mild October afternoon.
But by 4.30pm, the scene outside the Corporation’s White City campus had descended into chaos.
As the hour of Nick Griffin’s arrival inched closer, more than 800 demonstrators spilled from the pavement, bringing traffic to a standstill and catching the police off guard.
Buses were marooned in a sea of angry faces, orange smoke flares were fired and officers scrabbled around to maintain control.
At least 25 demonstrators who had burst into the BBC had to be frogmarched from the building by police and security staff. It was not pretty.
Throughout the day, protesters from United Against Fascism, the Socialist Worker and Stop the War Coalition gathered outside the sprawling BBC site.
Their target was the front entrance of Television Centre, where they held placards and shouted anti BNP slogans.
The Question Time producers had decided to hold the programme in London for the first time in four years to enable the police to keep tight control.
Around 300 police officers at an estimated cost of £100,000 were placed on standby, while the BBC employed 60 extra security staff.
Guards at the nearby Westfield shopping centre were also on alert against potential troublemakers.
By 3pm, 300 people were holding forth, backeded by the local Labour MP Andy Slaughter, students from Goldsmiths, University of London and several well dressed supporters.
Doris Page, 73, a retired health worker, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939, said: “My family was killed in the gas chambers of Auschwitz.
“The BBC has not learned from history. Hitler grew from a very small start.
“People think fascism has gone away but it hasn’t: it has just taken a different form and what we are seeing here is a sinister transfer of power to the BNP thanks to the BBC.”
It was all looking rather tame, until a few keen eyed protesters noticed that the wrought iron gates 50 yards down the street had been left open.
At 4.31pm, about 40 of them made a run for it, vaulting over the red and white barriers and bolting across the car park into reception, much to the cheers and delight of those standing outside.
As one was marched from the building, he shouted: “This is what they do to protect the Nazis. Shame on you, BBC.”
While half were ejected almost immediately and the gates swiftly shut, a few managed to linger in the corridors a little longer.
Among them was 20-year-old Siobhan, who emerged 20 minutes later, out of breath, but exhilarated by her security breach.
“They were completely surprised,” she said. “We were surrounded by police before they threw us out. The BBC has given Nick Griffin a platform he does not deserve.”
The successful charge galvanised the rest of the crowd, which by now had swelled to more than 800.
They charged the thin line of police now standing in front of the gates, shoving officers as they knocked helmets from their heads.
Police reinforcements found it difficult to struggle through the surging mass, so several vaulted – looking rather ungainly - over the 15 ft gates to join their colleagues, to the amusement of the crowd.
By now scores of officers who had been on standby in nearby riot vans were called into action, but they did not count on the demonstrators breaking loose from the pavement and dashing down Wood Lane, forcing traffic to a halt.
At 4.45pm, the scene grew farcical as police officers in their bright yellow coats set off on foot after the rampaging crowd.
Having reclaimed the street, the demonstrators realised this protest was going rather better than planned.
As they rushed the officers and set off orange smoke flares, a line of people waiting quietly to get into the audience of Harry Hill's TV Burp looked on, nervously.
Kirsty Rollings, 21, from Canterbury, said: “It is quite intimidating really, especially when they all ran past us waving their bits of wood.”
Asked what she thought of Mr Griffin’s appearance on Question Time, she replied: “I don’t know really – politics isn’t really my thing.”
But for the throng just yards away, their politics were in full force.
One demonstrator grabbed a microphone, called for hush and in a voice trembling with excitement, said: “Nick Griffin has just gone on Sky News. What he is saying is that he is not going to fight his way through into the television studios.
“We must stay here, on the roads, until 10pm and hold the line. Hold the line.”
His words were drowned out with whoops and cheers from the cheering crowd: “United, united, we will not be defeated.”
With only a few minutes to go until 5pm, the protesters believed there was a real chance that they could stop Enemy Number One from getting through.
But Mr Griffin had not waited to go on Question Time this long to give up at the first sign of trouble.
At 5.17pm, a silent convoy of nine vehicles – including three transit vans – pulled up outside a back entrance of the BBC on Frithville Road.
With no way of getting his entire entourage through the gates, Mr Griffin, dressed in a grey suit and poppy, stepped out into the street.
As he did so, more than 30 minders, many of whom sporting shaved heads, swarmed around him, outnumbering the police two to one.
With not a protester in site, he slipped into Television Centre without a jeer, his detractors still rejoicing unaware around the corner.
