Farage Free

I don’t much care for Charlotte Church. She squandered her precocious talent and turned into a chavvy little gob on legs in recent years and yesterday spent an inordinate amount of time screeching hatred at those who had voted for Brexit and in particular, the man who had brought it about. I don’t have a lot of time for the ramblings of Owen Jones and his ilk, or their matriarch, Polly Toynbee, but they afford me a morbid glimpse into the dark, paranoid, tribally-obsessed worlds they appear to wish they lived in. The real world of the ‘caring’ left is a morass of moral turpitude, stirring up animus for those who don’t stick to their script; demonising those who dare to pull back the veil to show the ugly truth.

But I wouldn’t wish any of them dead because of it – unless, perhaps, they could arrange to meet their demise in a spectacular, newsworthy and hilariously entertaining fashion. I don’t hate anybody for their views, as backward and bigoted as they are, as they spit on the lowly from their lofty eyries. Having a platform and using that platform to wield influence does not make them right. Their pursuit of Nigel Farage as if he was some sort of rabid, demonic spawn of hell would be laughable if they were not so serious about it. Having whipped up their audience to demand ‘death to Farage’ they insist that the reported rise in hate crime is somehow attributable to Ukip alone and that their own hands are squeaky clean.

No matter how carefully Nigel has been to phrase what he has to say and no matter how rational much of the population finds it, the murderous lynch mobs of the various left-facing splinter groups have simply cried racist until they were blue in the face. This works because far too many people don’t know what to think until somebody tells them. The repeated falsehoods enter into the received wisdom of the unthinking masses until they imagine massed band of right wing thugs in Stella-stained vests on every street corner, wielding pickaxe handles. So insidious is this assault on hearts and minds that even former vocal supporters begin to whisper their doubts. This is the politics of the left and it is a dirty business.

But sometimes you have to wade through shit to win and Nigel Farage, through sheer tenacity and a refusal to listen to the true haters has come through to triumph. Through attack after attack, with the hide of a rhinoceros and the heart of a lion he has faced down the legion of detractors. His example, more than any other, standing his ground against the constant onslaught of vilification, is almost certainly the principle reason the majority voted to leave the EU. Had it not been for the anti-Farage barrage, turning weaker minds from the cause the result might have been far more emphatic.

Yet even in his retirement from the front line, the campaign against him has not yet let up. The mewling pro-EU media wish to ignore or overturn the will of the majority, as they so often do. Farage had to endure a graceless attack interview with Eddie Mair on PM last night. After a perfunctory summing up of his career the questions all related to whether or not he regretted the divisiveness of Ukip’s fight for a referendum. Not a word of congratulations for arguably the most successful politician of our age. Well here’s one. Thank you Nigel. And cheers!