On Friday, a group of trans kids disrupted the conference of everybody’s favourite pretendy-gay organisation, the LGB Alliance, by releasing thousands of crickets into the white-haired audience shortly after JK Rowling delivered a short speech from her luxury yacht.

The LGB Alliance is, of course, the Tufton Street-based, dubiously funded anti-trans organisation who admitted in court that the overwhelming majority of its supporters and members are straight, who misled the Charity Commission that a venomous troll was no longer connected with the organisation when in fact he is their Director of Research, and whose Irish division has been classified as an anti-LGBTQ hate group by the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism. As infamous anti-trans activist Kellie-Jay Keen noted on Twitter, at the event “most attendees and volunteers seem to be straight women.”

The organisation and its supporters were quick to condemn the protest, with some claiming it was a “biohazard” and others doing the usual nonsense about violent transes silencing legitimate concerns. But if the LGB Alliance really were a gay rights organisation it’d be familiar with the tactics, which were used by organisations such as ACT UP! and the Lesbian Avengers against previous generations of bigots. The use of crickets to disrupt a meeting was a clear echo of the same tactic the Lesbian Avengers used in the early 1970s in a protest against conversion therapy.

When it comes to queer activist groups such as The Lesbian Avengers, the LGB Alliance wouldn’t even need to Google to find out about them: they could just ask one of their earliest and most prominent members, JK Rowling’s charity partner Baroness Nicholson, who was at the event. Nicholson, who as an MP voted against equal age of consent, voted for Section 28 and denounced lesbian families as “neither normal nor natural” knows the Lesbian Avengers well: she was the subject of one of their protests, which they held on her front lawn in 1995.

Index on Censorship reports that 53% of school librarians have been asked to remove LGBTQ+ books from their shelves.

In an Index survey of UK school librarians, 53% of respondents said they had been asked to remove books, with more than half of those requests coming from parents.

Of those, 56% removed the book or books in question. Titles included This Book Is Gay, by Juno Dawson; Julián is a Mermaid, by Jessica Love; and the alphabet book ABC Pride, by Louie Stowell, Elly Barnes and Amy Phelps, as well as plenty of other titles featuring LGBT+ content.

Manga comic books were removed in some schools because of the perceived sexualisation of characters, other books following complaints about explicit or violent content.

Books challenged in several schools – but ultimately not removed – included various Heartstopper books by Alice Oseman, which were accused of homophobic language, swearing and self-harm discussions. Young adult fiction also came under fire in many schools, with librarians usually able to hold firm in keeping their collections.

One was asked to remove a book for “racism against white people”. They did not comply with the request.

It’s a relatively small sample but it does demonstrate that yet another hateful right-wing US culture war tactic is crossing the Atlantic. And it’s a chilling echo of the 1980s, when a right-wing moral panic over a queer book resulted in the hateful Section 28, an anti-LGBTQ+ law that stayed on the statute books until the 2000s.

My youngest is obsessed with skating right now, and that means I spend a lot of time taking them to skate parks, pump tracks and so on. For a bit of variety yesterday we went to one of the more far-away favourites, a track near the national football stadium in Glasgow’s south side, and that’s where I had to have a conversation with my ten-year-old when they showed me a particularly prominent and vicious sectarian sticker and asked what it meant.

There’s no need to detail what the sticker said; it was a threat of violence towards Catholics. But it’s a conversation I’d really rather not have with my kid on a sunny Sunday morning.

There’s something particularly repellent about bigots’ stickers, I think. They’re uniformly ugly, and they leave a mess behind – assuming you’re willing to risk taking them down, because since the days of the National Front there’s been the fear that there may be a razor blade underneath as a trap for would-be removers. They’re repellent because their vandalism is much more in-your-face than something sprayed on a wall.

But I think what’s most repellent about them is the cowardice they demonstrate. At least spray painters risk being caught.

What’s really sad about this sticker in particular is that when I saw it, my first reaction wasn’t horror but surprise: I’m used to removing a dozen or more bigoted stickers each and every week when I walk my dog near my home, but this wasn’t one I’ve seen before. That’s because the stickers I’m used to taking down aren’t anti-Catholic; they’re anti-trans. But the hatred and the cowardice are just the same.