‘Tell them where to go!’ said Nigel Farage, angry as hot bacon fat. With his electrifying, 15-minute broadcast the Reform party leader did what he likes best: he grabbed the news agenda. Made the noise. He was resigning as Clacton’s MP so that he could stand again and allow constituents, not the Establishment, the definitive say on his financial doings.
Spitting Spartacus was seizing the initiative and taking the fight to Rome, such as it is. A self-created by-election in Clacton will dominate the media for much of July and early August. If Eyelashes Andy thought he was going to have the silly-season to himself, he was wrong.
Mr Farage was speaking from somewhere in London, presumably the TV studio at Reform’s skyscraper offices overlooking the Thames at Millbank. Behind him: two Union Jacks, a view of the London Eye and, just in shot, Big Ben. From his opening remarks, slightly downbeat and nostalgic, it sounded as if he might be about to jack in the whole parliamentary fandango. He spoke of how he had ‘genuinely, genuinely adored’ being an MP at Westminster (I am not sure I fully believed this) and how he had been proud that Reform had been ‘No 1 for the past 350 weeks’.
He meant No 1 in the polls but this was the language of a pop impresario looking back on his career.
Nigel Farage resigned as MP for Clacton, but vowed to stand in the resulting by-election
Next came a longish passage about his money. Defiance with a whiff of burning martyr. Along the way we learned that he had not claimed a penny in personal expenses from Parliament. No wonder other MPs hate him.
Then the anger kicked in. A fluid ounce or two too much of it for my delicate palate but it made this speech rivetingly unusual. There was nothing same-old about this performance. The trademark cigarettey chuckle was heard only twice. A successful snake sheds its skin every now and again and a wise politician tweaks his schtick.
And so, as he described what he said were media intrusions on his family, he flared. A roar of vocal blowtorch. A quite different Farage from the beery bonhomie of old. He would argue that this was justified, so monstrous had been the provocations. Those of us who have long had a soft spot for Nigel the corduroyed revolutionary may hope that this raging ram is only a short-term phenomenon.
The fury seemed genuine and it had already been evident, earlier in the day, when Sky News ran footage of one of its reporters confronting Mr Farage in a public space. For a second it seemed he was going to sweep past without a word but then something flicked inside him and he came over all EastEnderish, threatening the reporter with all sorts of brimstone. He did so in a husky voice that was pure Phil Mitchell. Floating Toryish voters might be more sympathetic to the old, can-do spirit rather than these more menacing tones.
In his speech he twice said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. He added: ‘I have not misused public money.’ There was an indignant triple as three times he said ‘I will not tolerate’. At this point his tone became Dalek-like in its indignation. He was talking about how he would not tolerate having his daughter dragged into politics by hostile journalists. The name of Judge Leveson was invoked. An unattractive shaft. A little bootie-kick of Trumpian authoritarianism.
Talking of which, he had contemplated moving to the USA. There had been ‘plenty of offers’. But then he had thought, ‘why should I be judged by Sky News and their ilk?’ And so it was going to be a by-election of The People v. The Establishment, or at least The People v. parliamentary standards poohbahs, the police and that notorious agent of repression, Miss Beth Rigby.
Conservative MPs who were looking forward to spending their summer recess in Tuscany will now have to head for Clacton-on-Sea and the recherche delights of the Jaywick riviera.





You must be logged in to post a comment Login