Could Nigel Farage really be the next UK Prime Minister? It’s a question that, a mere five years ago, would have sounded rather like asking if we’d ever see Piers Morgan run the Ministry of Manners.
And yet here we are, with Farage’s Reform UK party reportedly garnering a surge in new members—apparently outrunning the Conservatives in the membership stakes, and boasting a younger, more dynamic support base by a margin of at least 15 years. The Tory old guard, presumably, is drinking yet another cup of lukewarm tea in some draughty community hall, while the new kids on the block queue up for kombucha shots at a Reform UK rally. “The times,” as Bob Dylan assured us decades ago, “they are a-changin’.”
Of course, if we’re to believe the rumours, Reform UK also has potential financial backing from the world’s richest man himself, Elon Musk. Yes, that Elon Musk: the rocket-launching, Twitter-purchasing, multi-billionaire entrepreneur who chucks Teslas and satellites into space for sport. The same man who started off revolutionising the electric car industry and wound up with a curious hankering to buy up social media platforms for fun. Musk, mind you, is not exactly known for his shy and retiring approach to politics—or anything else. The notion that Musk might see in Farage a kindred spirit for disruptive politicking and a global platform for their shared brand of contrarian mischief is not entirely outlandish. After all, you could argue they’re both showmen of sorts, each boasting that brash, unstoppable self-confidence that could whip up a global storm in a teacup faster than you can say “Brexit 2.0.”
The truly staggering thing in this scenario, though, is that ordinary Britons—battle-scarred after years of Brexit sagas, pandemic bungles, and fractious leadership contests—might actually be prepared to back Farage as he once again sets out his stall. Remember, this is the man who promised to “get Brexit done” before it was even Johnson’s catchphrase, and whose dogged efforts have, arguably, shaped the entire political trajectory of the UK in the last decade. Love him or loathe him, there’s no doubt that Farage has altered the national conversation—and the national identity. He’s the unstoppable political cameo who marches in and out of the limelight, brandishing a pint and a seemingly endless array of soundbites that enrage one half of the population and endear him to the other half.
But this notion of him returning, phoenix-like, from the ashes of UKIP and Brexit Party stints, and taking on the top job at Number 10? It’s a fantasy that might have some Tory MPs waking in a cold sweat. Picture the scene: you’ve slogged your way through years of Conservative membership, handing out leaflets in the rain, only to have Nigel Farage waft in, grinning ear to ear, flanked by Elon Musk’s retinue of robotic dog prototypes, Twitter flame wars, and rocket tattoos. The possibility that the Conservatives—traditional stalwarts of British politics—could be overtaken by a party that’s not only younger but possibly richer (once Musk opens his digital chequebook) is enough to send a shiver up even the sternest suiting of the Westminster corridors.
Support authors and subscribe to content
This is premium stuff. Subscribe to read the entire article.
