Several Range Rovers with blacked out windows pulled up outside the TV studios in Westminster. Out stepped Theresa May. Awkward. If she’d known her arrival was going to coincide with a Reform party photo call, she’d have probably asked the driver to go round the block again. Just in case people jumped to conclusions. Not that there was much chance of anyone imagining that the Maybot was about to leave the Tory party and defect to Reform. But better safe than sorry.
These are happy days for Nigel Farage. OK, so Donald Trump might have gone a little cold on him. The Donald’s apparatchiks have been letting it be known that the president-elect regards Nige as an eccentric fanboy, basking in the reflected glory. But back in the UK things are hunky dory. The Tories are barely alive and Labour hasn’t got off to the best of starts. To put it kindly.
A country where people are short of hope and are feeling that nothing really works is the Reform leader’s type of country. He thrives on despair. Taps into any national discontent. A man for all grievances. This is what gets him out of bed every morning.
Farage has no real solutions to anything. A call to cut immigration to zero won’t begin to address the systemic problems within the economy. It’s just a soundbite to lure people in. He is the unthinking man’s thinking man.
And it’s all beginning to pay off as Reform are now ahead of both Labour and the Tories in the polls. It may be a long shot, but many serious people are coming round to the view that Nige is more likely to be the next prime minister than Kemi Badenoch. Providing he can find more than 330 credible Reform candidates.
For now, though, he is just happy to surf the wave. The Reform party last week announced that they would be holding another press conference this Tuesday to make “a big announcement”. The last time they had done this, a few weeks back, it was to introduce Andrea Jenkyns as their latest signing. Not exactly a stellar defection, but I suppose Andrea had to find a home somewhere. And Nige is never going to turn his nose up at low-hanging fruit.
There had been expectations that Reform had captured another Tory. Only it turned out to be the wrong one. They had hoped to win over Suella Braverman but had only managed to nab her husband. And with the best will in the world, no one cares what Mr Braverman thinks about anything. At least that was the general assumption. Whatever the reason, the presser was cancelled.
But as one door closes, another opens. So up popped Nigel with his latest recruit, the billionaire property developer Nick Candy, for a photo call. Candy has been Reform-adjacent for a while now. He was once a Tory donor and says he toyed with supporting Labour at the last election, but he’s been a VIP guest at Popular Conservatism events over the past 18 months. And the PopCons are a starter group for those who are Reform-curious but haven’t quite got round to doing more than dipping their toes.
Nige gave his widest, most leathery smile. Candy was to be the new party treasurer. A man who could attract money from all quarters. From both the desirable and the undesirable. The provenance was of no consequence.
Nick was slightly more bashful. It hadn’t been an easy decision to make. Really? He didn’t look like someone who had lost sleep over it. He was just an ordinary type of billionaire who was concerned about the state of the country. Though he didn’t have any suggestions for getting the UK back on track.
“Today, we need the guys that have got £1, £5, £10, £25,” he said. He might almost have meant it. Though Nige was eyeing up the £1m that Candy had pledged. Not to mention the other six- or seven-figure donations Nick had let it be known would be on their way from his well-off mates. In all, he promised he could raise £40m to fight the next election. Serious money. Now that all may be wishful thinking, but what if it’s not? What if Elon Musk finds a way to channel millions of dollars Nige’s way? What if this time the country takes him seriously?
Candy ended by saying he was just an ordinary, everyday kind of billionaire. The kind of billioniare Nige would meet on every Clacton street corner if only he could be bothered to go to his constituency.
“My children call him Uncle Nigel,” he added. Uncle Nigel as in Creepy Uncle Nigel. The kind of uncle you can rely on to drink too much at lunch. To tell inappropriate jokes. “Lighten up kids. We’re having a laugh.” He also maintained that Boris Johnson had been hard done by. Clearly his judgment leaves something to be desired.
Spare a thought though for Richard Tice, who was forced to observe this public love-in from the sidelines. You can’t help feeling that Dicky is getting squeezed out here. Long before Nigel came back onboard at the start of the election campaign, it was Dicky who got to run the show.
But ever since, Tice has been steadily marginalised as Nige gets to hang out with newer, brighter, shinier people. Dicky isn’t the sharpest mind around, but even he must know how this one pans out. There is no one who Farage doesn’t fall out with in the end. Dicky is being slowly frozen out. Before long he will just be another piece of jetsam. Nigel steps on the bodies of his supporters.
Talking of which, it’s time for a brief catch up with the tireless Liz Truss. The Duracell bunny who refuses to believe her time is up. She has now taken part in a 35-minute documentary about her 49 days in office made by the Wall Street Journal. In her mind, this is a full-length feature film. Liz: The Movie. She really doesn’t realise that her time is up. That there is no way back for her. She no longer has a reputation to trash.
Meeting the Queen was a “pinch me” moment, she says. How does she think the rest of us who had to live with her as prime minister feel? And some of us haven’t forgotten that Her Maj was dead within two days of meeting the Trusster. Just saying.
Taking the Lead by John Crace is published by Little, Brown (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
