Britain is in a terrible state (you may have noticed). We have a busted economy, a broken social contract and also what are euphemistically known as ‘community tensions’. But Reform is riding to our rescue. Apparently.
Now if I’m drowning I’ll grab gladly at any piece of passing driftwood, however unpromisingly flimsy. But I’m afraid I just can’t successfully lie to myself – and I’ve tried – about Reform.
There is something cheap and cheerful about Reform, an erratic, homespun quality that would seem amiably slipshod in a comfortingly British way – if only conditions weren’t so dire
What is the essence of Reform? If you were going to assemble a mood board for the brand, what would you put on it? A Union Jack, a nice big friendly, messy dog. In pride of place, I see a pub in Stevenage with a two-and-a-half out of five star rating.
There is something cheap and cheerful about Reform, an erratic, homespun quality that would seem amiably slipshod in a comfortingly British way – if only conditions weren’t so dire.
There has been a string of odd, unforced errors and regrettable lapses, frequent spats and scenes, including the loss of two MPs from a tiny parliamentary party in peculiarly shadowy circumstances. Who are the remaining faces of the party? There is Zia Yusuf, an excitable figure with a trigger Twitter finger, who retired himself from the enterprise – ‘I no longer believe working to get a Reform government elected is a good use of my time’ – but then doubled back two days later with a new role.
He was replaced as chairman by Dr David Bull, an affable but lightweight media personality, who proceeded to go tell Richard Madeley how he’d once been strangled by the demonically possessed TV psychic Derek Acorah. He topped this by stating that ‘immigration is the lifeblood of this country’, a surprising remark considering Reform’s most salient policy. Now, I tried to convince myself that perhaps Dr Bull is like ditzy Ange from Abigail’s Party – daft as a brush but revealed suddenly as incredibly able in a crisis – but I didn’t get very far.
Reform is often portrayed as a one-man band, but there’s been flustered floundering at the top too. This week we had Nigel Farage’s odd and unexpected gaffe on the very simple issue of men in women’s prisons. This was made worse by Ann Widdecombe, of all people, rambling to Talk TV that a ‘small number’ of men could be waved in, provided they look womanly enough. I would love to see a committee making such decisions – picture a stiff military chap behind a desk with a rubber stamp shouting, ‘badly applied lipstick, wonky wig, very poor show. Next!’
Then there was last week’s emergency live address to the nation from the swanky new Reform nerve centre, following Peter Kyle’s ridiculous slur of Farage as ‘on the side of Jimmy Savile’. I tuned in to watch Farage give Kyle what-for, to be greeted by a broadcast which, with its air of anxious technical ineptitude, brought back memories of interviews on the Multi-Coloured Swap Shop. Farage introduced the all-important clip of Kyle making his ludicrous claim – and it played with no sound.
Is this the cavalry coming? It’s like expecting to be rescued by James Bond and Wonder Woman, but seeing only Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee on the horizon.
Things can be turned around. The debacle of the Trump machine following the 2020 election defeat – particularly the unforgettably excruciating press conference at Four Seasons Total Landscaping, far worse than anything Reform have achieved, yet – seemed to galvanise the operation. The Trump outfit was still barmy in 2024 – how could it not be? – but it was now backed up by sane and effective people. And we mustn’t forget that however ramshackle and loopy Trump or Reform may appear, the Harris and Starmer enterprises – for all their attempts at sensible branding – look loopier.
But still, I can’t help looking enviously back to Britain in 1979, when we had Sir Keith Joseph lurking behind Mrs Thatcher. What one would give for such a shadowy bogey waiting in the wings today.
Because the coming task of saving Britain will require superhuman determination, focus, and greatest-generational levels of grit and willpower; to overturn the consensus of the establishment, against the strength and power of an enemy who will be blocking every possible path. The shift must be historic, battling against almost insurmountable opposition – the Treasury, the OBR, the entirely Blair-hobbled institutions of law and education. It will demand conceptual thought that percolates down to the tiniest policy detail, all the while keeping the lid on the public who will be screaming as the bill arrives for the last 30 years, and some very bitter medicine has to be swallowed. There is so, so much harm to undo. Is Reform really up to it?
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