When even Neil Hamilton calls you a ludicrous figure, the game is up

Normally, senior Ukip figures deplore attempts to overturn the result of a democratic vote. When it comes to their own party, however, they’re prepared to make an exception. Yesterday over half of Ukip’s front bench team resigned, one by one, in a bid to topple Henry Bolton, the man elected leader just four months ago. Barely 10 minutes went by without another big name dramatically announcing his or her resignation. Thoughtfully in their statements they each specified the posts they were resigning from, to save everyone Googling.

What a day. It must have brought back memories for Labour MPS: a much-mocked party leader refusing to quit in the face of terrible press coverage and wave after wave of resignations. One man not resigning, but still calling for Mr Bolton to go, was Neil Hamilton, former Tory MP and now leader of Ukip’s Welsh division. “He’s made himself into a ludicrous figure by his own poor judgment,” he said.

When even Neil Hamilton feels able to call you a ludicrous figure with poor judgment, you might think the game is up. But not Mr Bolton. Yesterday he informed the media that he would be making a televised statement about his future at four o’clock, outside a hotel in Folkestone, Kent. (If the statement was intended to regain the confidence of party members, the choice of venue was possibly not ideal: Mr Bolton is living at the hotel, Alan Partridgestyle, having left his wife and children just before Christmas to embark on a brief affair with a glamour model).

Television crews gathered expectantly. Ten minutes later than scheduled, Mr Bolton emerged, stopped 30 feet from the cameras, produced a piece of paper, and opened his mouth to read. Immediately he was halted by the crews. “Can you come a bit closer?” they yelled. “We can’t hear you.” “Sorry,” said Mr Bolton bashfully, and tottered forward another five feet. He attempted to begin again.

“Come up to the microphones!” yelled the television crews. Frowning uncertainly, as if the instruction had been issued in an obscure dialect of Serbo-croatian, Mr Bolton edged forward. “Here?” he asked hopefully. “Closer!” sighed the crews.

It was not, perhaps, a flawless display of authority, but finally Mr Bolton succeeded in positioning himself within range of the microphones, and began his statement. No, he would not – “I repeat not” – be resigning. Furthermore, he’d decided that the party’s National Executive Committee – which had demanded his resignation – was “unfit for purpose”. In the words of Donald Trump, it was time to “drain the swamp”.

Journalists shouted questions. “No comment,” said Mr Bolton stiffly, then shuffled back up the path to his temporary abode.

What his next move will be, we don’t yet know. But I gather that on Tuesday mornings the hotel offers a dance class, with yoga on Wednesdays.