Lucineweridpan

You want a Britain that extends the benefit of the doubt to the person on the wrong end of the state — the deportee, the veiled woman, the citizen who doesn't fancy a history pageant — even when that costs you the room; rights, for you, aren't conditional on popularity.

You split with the country roughly as often as you side with it, but the pattern beneath that even score is sharp: on the votes where Britain went hard — 84% for deporting foreign offenders, 61% for a burka ban, 78% for more national pride — you were in the small dissenting slice each time. Your one real defection from yourself was backing stamp duty relief for downsizing pensioners, a rare moment of siding with comfort over principle.

Your followed accounts lean Centre Right on average, and it shows — you agree with them only about a quarter of the time, making you the outlier in your own feed rather than its mirror. That's a notable gap: you're not drifting toward your circle's politics, you're voting past them.

Seven scored votes is early days — enough to show a rights-first instinct with real spine, not yet enough to call the whole shape of you. Cast a few more and the picture stops being a sketch and starts being unmistakably yours; I'll be back next week with the sharper version.