It is unkind to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but sometimes a proper belly laugh is the only response. The rich contribution to summer’s lease? Andrew Tate’s prison diaries.
In which the self-described pimp, alleged rapist and man accused of facilitating human trafficking discovers an urgent interest in human rights, while fighting extradition to the UK from a US federal prison.
In which “Top G” bleats about a broken water tap and stomach problems, or the lack of nail clippers or a pillow, and complains that he and his brother Tristan aren’t allowed speak to their mom. In which a ghost in his prison cell is sufficiently terrified to beg Tate not to annihilate him.
In which the same annihilator starts finding it “eerily quiet” up there in his special housing unit because – woah – there are suddenly fewer officers on his wing and he wants followers to know that he would never kill himself. In which he reassures imaginary crowds holding signs outside that he “can feel every word”. In which his “heart breaks” as a “political prisoner for a foreign state, in an American jail”. But also – separately – that “JAIL IS FOR POOR PEOPLE”.
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In short, a few weeks in jail have crushed the bully who once preached that “depression isn’t real” and that “my kids obey me like f**king soldiers”.
His lawyers complain that “the public is greenlighting for the brothers to get murdered in jail” and that they’re being “harassed” by other inmates who call them “a word that starts with a ‘P’ that’s more appropriate to [Jeffrey] Epstein and not to them”. And naturally they argue that Andrew is being prosecuted for being a “political candidate” and “free speech activist”.
It’s no Wildean Ballad of Reading Gaol, but in its own way it is a notable ode to a very modern unravelling. We are witnessing the public deconstruction of the king of digital-era pimps. The Top G of the manosphere – “I am the dream of every fertile female alive” – who celebrated his rat-like invincibility, bellowing to his followers from various sunny locations that he’d been “begging” his lawyers to get him to trial to prove his innocence.
The megamouth got his wish. Yet he and his lawyers carry on fighting it for some reason.
For the record, the brothers face 59 criminal charges in the UK alone, including rape, sex trafficking and assault – and in Andrew’s case, indecent images of a child. They deny all wrongdoing.
There can never be an accurate count of Andrew Tate’s years of wilful destruction. Two years ago in Hertfordshire, Kyle Clifford murdered his ex-girlfriend, Louise Hunt, her sister Hannah and their mother Carol by crossbow and a knife in what prosecutors argued were acts of “violent misogyny promoted by Tate”. In the 24 hours before the murders, they said, Clifford had fuelled his decision by watching about 10 of Tate’s videos.
This is the same brutal indoctrinator now marinating in puddles of victimhood after a few weeks in jail. The “millions” of “students” in his online “school” have melted away. A Stop the Extradition petition has mustered fewer than 2,000 signatures. The protesters that he imagined massed below his jail window were, separately, a handful of young males doing a few push-ups of support and 19-year-old “content creator” Tyson Hockley, gazing up at Tate’s window lamenting – to his own monetised following, inevitably – that “not a single person” was here to join him.
The manosphere embodied by Andrew Tate, Elon Musk, Joe Rogan, Charlie Kirk, Nick Fuentes et al who vigorously framed Donald Trump’s 2024 election as an antifeminist defence against a “war on men” has since been substantially unmanned by infighting. But the political significance of the Tate arrests and potential extradition brings their stench all the way back to the White House.
During the 2024 campaign, Tate – still under a strict travel ban in Romania – had cultivated relationships with Trump’s sons Barron and Donald jnr, pumping out pro-Maga content, mobilising young men in such numbers that Kamala Harris named him as a factor in her defeat. After victory, Tate exulted: “The patriarchy is back.”
When the brothers’ release from the travel ban last year came after pressure from Trump’s special diplomatic envoy Richard Grenell, Maga supporters said nothing.
The avowed protectors of women and children say nothing now as the Tates become objects of derision. Their lawyer Joseph McBride – a Maga star who made his name defending several January 6th rioters – witlessly compounds the ridicule with further mewling and the blessings of Christ.
No White House deus ex machina is coming for the Tates this time. The ripples of Epstein presumably have instilled a certain nervousness.
On Monday, in a desperate coded appeal to Trump, Tate equated himself in victimhood with the US president. Tate (or his ventriloquist) said Trump was called a rapist and threatened with jail by 100 Democrat-supporting UK Labour councillors. “Now these same councillors are calling me a rapist and have put me in jail. Here I sit.”
No longer the dream of every fertile female alive, then. The culture that elevated the Tates will never die but there is a message here for men inspired by their subhuman disregard for women. Sometimes there are consequences. And we should laugh.
