Since 2017, the man now known as Mr Stop Brexit has stood outside parliament. So what does he make of the state of play?

Political activist Steve Bray, 50, is known as “Mr Stop Brexit”. Since September 2017, the former rare coins dealer from Port Talbot, South Wales, has braved all weathers to mount his “Stand of Defiance European Movement” (Sodem) protest outside parliament every day it sits. He is notorious for photobombing live news broadcasts.

Take us back to the beginning. How did you get into all this?

This is my first ever protest and it’s lasted two years. I was never that political or loyal to any party, but it began with arguments online in the run-up to the referendum. I lost most of my friends, including a couple of lifelong ones, because I realised they were racist, xenophobic and downright pig-ignorant. I joined a few online groups and had news channels on permanently, but all the coverage was about migrants or scaremongering. I decided there must be some way to counter this.

How did your activism move offline and on to the streets?

I was battling online, day in, day out. It was relentless and I thought: “I can do better on the streets.” In February 2017, I joined a group hanging flags on bridges. Then for the first march, in 2017, we brought over the Dusseldorf carnival float, designed by [German sculptor] Jacques Tilly, of a 12ft Theresa May head with a Brexit gun in her mouth. I drove it all around London and got pulled over by police in the Mall. I parked it outside the BBC while May was on The One Show. I drove it all over the UK until it eventually collapsed. The papier-mache wasn’t strong and stable.

The BBC built a five-metre high platform, but I just got a long pole to keep my flags in the frame

What made you move your activities to outside parliament?

In June 2017, the DUP were given £1bn and I thought: that’s our taxes. The government was using our money to buy votes that they couldn’t win democratically. I decided to do a campaign called A Week on the Streets, Not a Penny More. I went all over London, joining vigils and giving out leaflets.

Towards the end of that week, I went on to College Green with a couple of flags. Some chap came over and said: “I’m Black Rod of the House of Lords and I’m asking you to move.” I said: “I’m here to protest.” He pointed to Old Palace Yard and said: “If you go up there, you won’t have a problem.” It’s only 100 yards away, bang opposite the main entrance to parliament. I thought: “This is fantastic, I’m going to stay here.” I’m still there 26 months later. It all happened totally by accident. I’m an accidental activist.

How do you fund yourself?

I stopped working three years ago to do this. I was self-employed, dealing in coins, 16th century onwards, and sold a chunk of stock to give me capital. Since then, it’s been like-minded people chipping in to help.

What are your tactics for getting on to news broadcasts?

I targeted the media right from the off, to get a message out there. Initially, I’d get on camera holding an EU flag. That evolved into placards and a loudhailer. People started to notice when I moved from camera to camera during interviews to stay in shot. Then the BBC built a five-metre high platform, but I just got a long pole to keep my flags in frame. It’s a game of cat and mouse but there’s mutual respect between me and the camera crews. If they’re filming a story about something tragic and non-Brexit-related, they’ll tip me off and I’ll stop everyone shouting. There’s an understanding.

How did your trademark outfit come about?

Originally, I bought an old black flocked top hat in a charity shop for £2. That was a mistake because it took £24 worth of spray cans to paint it blue. I put stickers on it saying “Stop Brexit”, but they kept falling off. At one event, it said “Top Brexit”! So now I wear a blue hat and use superglue to stick on a yellow hatband saying “Stop Brexit”. I’m onto my fourth hat now. One got sun-bleached during the heatwave and faded so quickly, it went purple and looked like a UKIP hat. I replaced that pretty fast.

You’ve met many politicians over the past two years. Have any surprised you?

I’ve met loads but there’s also a lot that avoid me (laughs). When Mark Francois spots me, his little face lights up. He can’t wait to chat. Yet when he’s on telly and I’m shouting, he says: “If we leave the EU, this idiot will shut up.” Then he walks off camera and he’s dead friendly again. On my birthday, Steve Baker wished me many happy returns, then him and Mark Francois posed for a selfie with me. The most amiable of the ERG lot, believe it or not, is Jacob Rees-Mogg. He might be on another planet, but he’s always polite and respects people’s right to protest.

Don’t you share a Westminster flat with fellow activists and have Rees-Mogg as a neighbour?

That’s right. He said I was welcome to borrow a cup of sugar. I was thinking of going around with a bucket to take the mickey.

Who’s been the most hostile?

In May, before he became leader, Boris Johnson was trying to get through Carriage Gates on his bike and I suddenly clocked he was waiting next to me. I looked him in the eye and said: “History is going to treat you with the contempt you deserve.” He replied: “Go and take a running jump.” Even the copper on the gate was laughing.

Labour MP Ben Bradshaw called you an “international celebrity”. Do you feel like one?

Not at all. Nobody recognises me without the hat. If I’ve got the hat on, I get stopped for selfies or autographs. But without the hat, I can go anywhere.

What’s been the scariest moment?

The day Tommy Robinson was sentenced, the far-right lot stormed down to the Commons. I saw them at the gates and suddenly [Tory MP] John Hayes, who’s an arch Brexiter, appeared next to me and said: “Look, I know we’re on opposite sides but you’d better get out of here because they’re baying for your blood.” I abandoned my stuff and ran to my car but they surrounded it: throwing themselves on to the bonnet, banging on the windows. That’s the only time I feared for my life.

Have you considered standing for office yourself?

I have certain disadvantages – I left school when I was 15 and I’ve never been political until now – but I’d consider it in the right circumstances.

Do you think Brexit will ultimately go ahead?

I’m absolutely convinced we’re never leaving. It’s a question of when it collapses, not if. Originally, I was all for a people’s vote, but now I think that would leave all these divisions intact. The only way we can unite is for parliament to revoke article 50.

What will you do when it’s all over?

I’ve been out of the coin market, so it’d take me a couple of years to get my business back up and running. And I can never go back to Port Talbot because my worldview has changed. I’ve come to realise that our political system isn’t fit for the 21st century, so I might just bite the bullet and campaign for proportional representation.

Have you gained more than you’ve lost over Brexit?

The positive thing to come out it has been the new friends I’ve made. I met my partner at parliament too, in Old Palace Yard in late 2017, and we’ve been together since. Prior to that, I’d been single for seven years. This has changed my life in all sorts of ways. It’s woken me up. I think that’s the case for a lot of people. It’s given us our motivation back. Perhaps it’s taken us back to our youth.