Cars honked outside. Dozens of militia-boys had marched up from Maidan. They were smiling. But they had shaved their heads for war. True to their Cossack blood, they had shaved their heads but for one lock running over the top. Firecrackers were thrown onto the steps of the Rada. Tires were piled there — a grunt had to be pulled off from setting them alight. Then a proclamation was read.

"We demand that the government do something! People are dying in Donetsk and Kharkiv, and they are only talking."

Nationalist deputy Yuriy Mikhalchyshyn stood outside. Black brogues, black trousers, black shirt, enjoying the situation. He was ready to fight: if the army lines broke Mikhalchyshyn was ready to become a partisan.

He threatened in impeccable English: "Ukrainians have a long and proud tradition of partisan resistance and even though it will cost us more in the first blows I am confident we will kill many more Russians in the long run."

There was a teenage boy sitting behind some makeshift barricades. He had shaved his head like a Cossack and, sitting on some old carpets flung over benches, was trying to fit a new sim card into his mobile to call someone — maybe his mum. He said he was ready to become a partisan.

Russian psychological warfare was torturing Kiev. The Right Sector was coming: Russian propaganda was growing louder. They were coming for the Jews. To test this theory I checked into the Right Sector's headquarters — the Hotel Dnypro, a socialist-era edifice.

The inside reminded me of a bad movie, maybe a South American coup. What Russia called the Nazi headquarters had an Angolan doorman, Claudio Miguel, in a comic blue jacket. He was withering about the guests. "They are not fascists . . . they are peasants."

The Hotel Dnypro was theirs. Boys in uniform wore the black-red Right Sector scarf outside. Others sat in inattentive security in the corridors. The third floor was headquarters, and where the party boss Andriy Tarasenko met me. The lights were dim. We sat on a sofa next to a slightly handicapped volunteer.

The mood was of the front line. Tarasenko bored into me with dark-brown, almond eyes. He was bald save for the sides. And he wanted to bat away talk of the Jews.

"Look . . . I met the Israeli ambassador and I told him we want absolutely normal relations with Israel. I want to trade with Israel. We have Jewish members. What I want is a national state. We want the people to choose the state. We want the people to choose the judges. We want the people to choose the sheriffs. We want people to be able to carry arms."

Tarasenko stared past me.  "Every day we get bigger and bigger and bigger. We are watching the people mobilise. We are watching every day more and more supporters. We want to change Ukraine. We are ready to fight for Ukraine, to fight for our land."