A squalid twist in UKIP’s tale

IN SPITE of much badgering from its members, I was never really tempted to join UKIP, which in gentler days I used to view as a Dad’s Army party of lost Thatcherites, led by a man, Nigel Farage, who had come close to calling for the decriminalisation of marijuana.

Well, wasn’t I wise to steer clear? Its current leader, Gerard Batten, is even less attractive than Mr Farage. He already had a certain something about him, but his decision to appoint the dangerous and frightening ‘Tommy Robinson’ as an adviser means that he is deliberately leading UKIP into the squalid badlands of rabble politics.

Mr ‘Robinson’ (the alias is said to be the name of a once-famous Luton football hooligan) is really Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, an unlovable and mysterious figure with an unpleasant record, some of it criminal, and some very unattractive supporters. I have for some time feared that YaxleyLennon might be a British Trump, if such a thing could exist, and UKIP seems to be trying to usher him into the fringes of proper politics.

It ought to work the other way. Associating with Yaxley-Lennon ought to mean the end of UKIP. But in our current fevered atmosphere, and with the ever-present danger of serious economic trouble, I am not so sure. Once again I recall warning the complacent Left in this country years ago that they really ought to listen to me, or they would certainly encounter something or somebody nothing like as nice as I am. Well, here it comes.