with the Rev Kevin Logan, Vicar of Christ Church, Accrington. . .

ME and my dog Lady Sunday strolled by a squad of black shirts and suits. Parading at the cenotaph, they sang and prayed to Jesus, dipped neo-nazi flags, and laid wreaths to all the whites who had died.

Lady, normally a fair judge of character, wagged her tail. I remained aloof. Were not these the disgraceful demons our leaders had railed about?

Yet, there they were, clean, smartly dressed, with not a barbed tail in sight, holding a similar service to the one I would conduct at the same cenotaph two days later.

Dog, vicar and black shirts, all united, it seemed, by a four-letter word - fear!

Lady can't stand Remembrance. It's the cannon. In fact, most of November is a hell of explosive terrors and whining missile whistles. She cowers in the shadow of her saviour me -- until the dog Valium kicks in.

Is it a similar animal-like fear, I wonder, that makes the far-right tremble at multi-coloured skins, illogically praying to a distinctly off-white, olive-skinned Jesus for an all-white Britain?

And my fear?

Yes, I'm alarmed by neo-Nazi flags fluttering at a cenotaph to those who died under the old Nazi one. But, mainly, I fear those who put the right-wing standards in holsters.

Last year, it was Birmingham cancelling Christmas. This year, the Red Cross bans Jesus and the Nativity.

They modify the culture of 94 per cent of the population, angering the majority and embarrassing the minority.

If racial rivers of blood ever come to flow in Britain, it is the politically correct we will find at the sluice gates.