#0039 – TRIBUNE REVIEWS Nigel FARAGE’S BULL
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TRIBUNE REVIEWS Nigel FARAGE’S BULL!
FAILING TO NOTE THE POSSIBLE END OF HIS CAREER!
Fighting Bull by Nigel Farage
Biteback Publishing, £17.99
New copies at Amazon £9.59 with FREE Delivery!
Making plans for Nigel
by Paul Routledge
Tuesday, June 8th, 2010
The revolution in Britain “will come one day soon” he says. The downfall of professional, self-serving career politicians and the return of people to Parliament – and Parliament to people – is nigh.
These might be gladsome tidings, had they not been uttered by that improbable fifth horseman of the Apocalypse, Nigel Farage, the leading light (if no longer the leader) of the UK Independence Party.
The revolution was due to begin in Buckingham at the general election with the ousting of the Speaker of the House of Commons, there being “no better place for it to start and no better head to throw over Westminster’s walls than John Bercows’.”
Unfortunately for the braying UKIP soothsayer, events intervened. Bercow was returned to the Commons with a majority of more than 12,500 while Farage came third behind an independent with only 17 per cent of the votes cast. What’s more, he escaped death by inches when the light plane from which he was flying a party slogan crashed on polling day.
An abashed Farage conceded: “I wasn’t to know just how popular John Bercow was with his constituents.”
But that’s the point about politics. These are the things you are supposed to know before you go around prophesying the end of the world as we know it. It’s classic UKIP to get it wrong, and finest Farage to miscalculate on such a grand scale.
However, he gets it wrong with such style and such breathtaking chutzpah that his autobiography is hugely entertaining. You don’t have to agree with him – in fact, please don’t be taken in – to enjoy the ride. Not that you could ever revel in it anything like as much as he has clearly done.
Nigel Farage was born in April 1964 in Kent. His father was a high-living stockbroker in the City, and their seven bed villa backed onto the grounds of Downe House, the home of Charles Darwin. Perhaps there is something prophetic in the air. A bright, restless boy at Dulwich College, with “a passionate loathing for received opinion,” he was marked out for a dazzling career in the City but, at the age of 21, was knocked down by a car outside Orpington station, drink having been taken. He survived, fell in love with his nurse and soon after discovered he had testicular cancer. As he puts it, he’s now monorchid, the only attribute he might be said to share with Adolf Hitler.
An ardent admirer of Margaret Thatcher, he found his true vocation in 1990 when Britain joined the European Exchange Rate Mechanism. City pals were incredulous. He was incandescent. “What sort of stupid, asinine moron is this Major? This cannot work.” He became a notorious ERM bore and prophet of doom, and was a natural recruit to Alan Sked’s fledgling anti-Europe outfit that eventually morphed into UKIP.
The importance of being Nigel, and his obsession with getting his way, bore fruit in 1999 when Farage was elected an MEP. Despite congratulating himself all the way to Brussels, he fails to mention that he only won a seat in the hated European Parliament because Tony Blair changed the rules and introduced the quasi-PR “list” system of voting in Europolls. Without that so-called reform, UKIP would be an even smaller footnote in British political history than it is today.
Farage is fascinating about the ups and downs (for him, it’s mostly ups) of life in his party. The personality battles, egregious errors, backstabbings and general bitchiness make Labour in the 1980s look like a quiet afternoon in the library. His vanquishing of Robert Kilroy-Silk – “able enough, just not humble enough” – makes particularly satisfying reading. He also discloses, I think for the first time, a cash/electoral pact approach from Michael Howard’s Tories.
We may take with a vat of salt his protestation that “I had no desire to lead UKIP” because that is precisely what he went on to do for several years, with some élan, before handing over to the throwback hereditary Lord Pearson of Rannoch last year to concentrate on toppling Bercow and beginning the revolution. He remains, though, the grinning, garrulous face of the party, an adept performer on Question Time and unputdownable on the Today programme.
This autobiography comes to an end just before the general election, but the story isn’t over or, to use his words, “the war goes on.” Farage believes the euro is doomed (well, he would, wouldn’t he?) and argues that the EU itself cannot hold because it doesn’t have the wholehearted consent of its constituents. He concludes: “I only pray that we can break it up intelligently and calmly now rather than wait until our children must once more fight for freedom at terrible cost.”
With the eurozone in turmoil, wiser counsel is prevailing, and fingers are crossed for the success of the trillion dollar operation bailout. But what if fanatical Farage is right?
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It is understood that the plan was to let Lord Pearson drop out of the titular role of leader and although he would not come back as leader with his hand operating the dishonest and corrupt David Bannerman Farage would continue as leader.
The best laid plans of mice and men!
On the fateful day of the election 6th. May 2010 with Nigel Farage playing the fool, his greatest natural skill, and bunking off work to showboat in a little drag and drop Polish plane pulling, or trying to pull, an electioneering banner his plans crashed.
Although having had a catastrophic election with the only notable outcome being the speed with which Farage shifted the blame to Pearson – we note when Farage came out of hospital and total interest in him vaporised amongst the media and his supporters as he hadn’t died – Pearson made it known he would leave as leader but was talked into remaining until Farage had managed a coronation of his chosen puppet.
Once again the plan crashed as Farage discovered that delayed shock was far more real than imaginary and a chipped spine far more real still and he repaired to his bed!
ALONE – so he must be unwell.
We gather he has been ordered to all but bed rest for at least 2 months.
Now Harold Wilson said a week in politics is a long time, we have a feeling Farage will find 2 months could prove to be the balance of his lifetime in political terms with even the Lega Nord wishing to distance themselves from the failing UKIP.
Pearson without Farage’s spin starting to realise he is about as popular as a pork chop in a synagogue and now risibly trying to ‘make a difference’ as he introduces the alarming and utterly batty fake member of the House of Lords Christopher Monkton of such populist fame amongst the Bedroom Broadcasting Conmerchants.
It is hard to see how UKIP could ever be taken seriously again, that is to present the myth that they ever were!
It is my bet Farage will let someone intelligent suggest the blindingly obvious ‘It is over’ and he can thus retire on the incredibly generous terms of the Eu for those who retire due to ill health.
No doubt some fool will help the liar and cheat Tom Wise write some grubby little kiss and tell aimed at dragging UKIP down with him just because he was a criminal and was caught stealing public money – a book that will provide political ammunition but will merely make the odious Tom Wise look even more stupid for having been caught when the rest got away with it! What a sad spectacle – an isiot trying to blame his dishonesty not on his theft but on the fact that he was caught!
Would even the Krays or the Richardsons have sunk so low? Personally I think not but they do say their is no honour amongst thieves and so why are we surprised when a theif like Tom Wise sets out to prove he has no honour!
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