Tag Archives: #BrokenBritain

We need to talk critically about Farage and his team of Tory drop-outs.


nigel-farage-pub-boar

Farage is attracting dead Tories to him like a body collector during the bubonic plague. We have a tax-avoiding Bond Villain with a penchant for tax avoidance, a nutty bonkbuster writer with a record of nepotism, huge expenses and unparalleled stupidity, and honest Bob, a failed Tory Leadership candidate, who’d rather line the pockets of his mates and confront fair dodgers on the tube in search of clicks than offer any serious political thoughts on how to get out of the situation the Tories and Farage’s Brexit created.

They are not alone; they are part of a parcel of rogues, rats jumping onto the vile vessel ‘Reform’ as an act of political survival, defection and infection in one move. Let’s list them for the sake of completeness:

Lee Anderson, the potty-mouthed ex-chairman of the Tory Party and paid pub bore on GBNews; Jonathan Gullis, the unemployed windbag blaming “woke” witchcraft for his unemployment. David Jones, the expense-swindling bigot who pocketed £81k from a public flat flip while deeming gay parents unfit for kiddie-rearing; Dame Andrea Jenkyns, the bird-flipping banshee who claims Reform bribes lured her in; Danny Kruger, the shadowy scripture-thumper under fire for £55k anti-euthanasia slush funds, peddling “cultural Marxism” paranoia against mercy killings; Lucy Allan, the threat-faking fabulist who doctored videos to smear foes and bullied staff with venomous voicemails till they snapped.

Sir Jake Berry, the out-of-touch oracle advising broke Brits to “earn more” or slash heating amid his party’s economic apocalypse; Anne Marie Morris, the serial whip-loser who casually dropped the N-word in Brexit babble like it was afternoon tea chit-chat; Marco Longhi, the sly divider bolding Indian surnames in letters to Pakistani voters to stir ethnic pots under a unity facade; Ross Thomson, the grabby ghost cleared of barroom gropes but forever stained by sleazy accusations.

It goes on, there’s Chris Green, the tinfoil tweeter sharing Rothschild rants and New World Order nonsense while decrying lockdowns as dictatorial drivel; Lia Nici, the flag-fetish fanatic spotting Brexit sabotage in every shadow, telling unpatriotic plebs to sod off while delivering deranged Boris defenses like a loyal loon; and Ben Bradley, the eugenics-teasing snob pushing vasectomies for the jobless, linking free lunches to crack dens and brothels, and fabricating Corbyn spy yarns for cheap headlines.

It has never been about Farage, not for one second. Farage is just the lightning rod. The real story is the people who finally saw themselves in him and feel validated by what they see. I believe most of them will blow away, like yesterday’s newspapers, when the cult collapses, like embarrassed fans of a one-hit wonder.

Many of them will swear they were never really into him. The Reform amnesia is going to be epic. I used to wonder how it was possible that Farage could have surged in 2016 and again in 2024, taking votes, flipping seats and shaking the establishment, given how emotionally toxic, morally vacant, and clumsily psychologically manipulative he is. I don’t wonder anymore. I think he is successful for that exact reason. He isn’t just a party leader; he is a dark mirror that shows and appeals to our worst instincts in a time of engineered economic and geopolitical crisis.

If you are a xenophobe, he’s your man.

If you are a racist, he’s your man.

If you are a Eurosceptic, he’s your man.

If you mock multiculturalism, he’s your man.

If you hated intellectual elites, he’s your man.

If you are a climate sceptic, he’s your man.

If you enjoy stirring up anti-immigrant sentiment, he’s your man.

If you’d done absolutely nothing to confront your personal issues, he’s your man.

If you are a serial party-hopper, he’s your man.

If you stiff political allies, he’s your man.

If you are a conman, he’s your man.

If you mock people’s backgrounds, he’s your man.

If you long for a toxic Daddy, he’s your man.

If you are dissociated and disembodied, he’s your man.

If you are unconscionable in every economic dealing, he’s your man.

If you lie as naturally as breathing, he’s your man.

If you can’t embrace a diverse Britain, he’s your man.

If you are a Little Englander, he’s your man.

If your ego runs riot and replaces logic with oily charm, he’s your man

If you are a sociopath who cares not one iota about other humans, he’s your man.

If you think the NHS needs radical change, he’s your man.

If you believe the 2024 general election was fundamentally an “immigration election”, he’s your man.

If you claim to have done more than anyone else to drive the far-right out of British politics, even as your party faced ridicule for it, he’s your man.

If you are Nathan Gill, he’s your man.

If you are Putin, he’s your man.

If you are Trump, he’s your man.

If you can pay him, he’s your man.

If he had only two of these traits, he could never win; but because he had hundreds of them and millions of people recognised themselves in at least one, he might. This has never been about Farage. It has always been about the people whose worst instincts were finally validated.

Farage didn’t create the cruelty; he licensed it. He handed out permission slips for hate. He is merely a symptom of a far deeper disease: collective toxicity. If there is one sentence that explains Farage’s power, it is this:

“He says the things I’m thinking.”

That’s the part that should chill the spine.

Who knew that millions of Britons were harbouring such unconscionable thoughts? A country seething with resentment over immigration and diversity, ready to undermine democracy and institutions, fueled by far-right polarisation, Russian ties, poll manipulation, and media corruption, to desperate to reclaim a sense of control, agency and identity?

Perhaps we were living in a fool’s paradise. We aren’t anymore.

They used to call the Tories the ‘Nasty Party’, but that was in the good old days. Reform has raised the bar and lowered the price of admission.

We live in far more interesting times.

Austerity on Steroids, Reform UK’s Plan is a Blueprint for Misery.

An election manifesto is a promise, a plan, a road map to a better world. The seductive whisper that everything can be fixed, and simply. That a broken Britain can be made whole again with a dose of “common sense.” Reform UK has mastered this promise, presenting a vision of slashed taxes and booming growth. But when you pull back the curtain on the grand pronouncements, you don’t find a politics of hope. You find the ghost of failed ideas, a familiar, punishing script of austerity and trickle-down economics designed to benefit the few at the devastating expense of the many.

So, let’s talk about the price tag on this promise. To fund their carnival of tax cuts, Reform plans to find £150 billion in annual savings. A key part of this involves slashing £50 billion from what they call government “waste.” It sounds painless, like trimming the hedges. But the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS), a group not known for hyperbole, warns this would “almost certainly require substantial cuts to the quantity or quality of public services.” This isn’t trimming fat; it’s amputating limbs. It’s the sound of your local library closing, the GP appointment you can’t get, the pothole that never gets filled. This is the quiet, grinding misery of austerity, and they are planning it on a scale that would make George Osborne blush.

But where is all that money going? While our public services are starved, Reform intends to cut corporation tax and practically abolish inheritance tax for all but the wealthiest estates. This is the tired, old magic trick of trickle-down economics: the belief that if you shower money on the richest, some of it will eventually splash down onto the rest of us. Yet we’ve seen this show before, and we know how it ends. The IPPR think tank crunched the numbers and found the wealthiest households would gain enormously, while the poorest gain next to nothing. It’s not a rising tide lifting all boats; it’s ordering another bottle of champagne for the super-yacht while puncturing the life rafts.

Frankly, this isn’t just a cruel vision for Britain; it’s fantasy economics. The architects of this plan are building a house on foundations of pure wishful thinking. The IFS has stated bluntly that “the sums in this manifesto do not add up,” labelling the entire package “problematic.” They calculate that the proposed tax cuts would cost tens of billions more than Reform claims, while the savings are wildly optimistic. This isn’t a serious plan for government. It’s a fiscal implosion waiting to happen, a reckless gamble where the chips are our public services and the futures of millions.

To see this plan for what it is—a politics of exploitation masquerading as hope—is the first act of defence. But understanding the deception isn’t enough. The most powerful response isn’t to despair, but to build. The true antidote to a politics that seeks to divide and dismantle is the patient, unglamorous work of shoring up our communities. It means looking up from our screens, talking to our neighbours, and strengthening the bonds that this ideology needs us to forget we have.

So, what’s the path forward? It begins with reclaiming your own agency. Start by practicing some informational hygiene; read past the headlines and question the easy promises. But then, take that awareness outside. Find the most boring-sounding local committee you can and join it. A library support group, a park watch, a tenants’ association. This is the real work. It’s the levy that shores up the flood defences. Because when they come with their politics of misery, they will find that the fabric of our communities is far stronger, more resilient, and more hopeful than their cynical calculations could ever imagine.

And for those of you who like facts here’s the data:

Reform UK’s Economic Blueprint: A Politics of Misery Masked as Hope

Central Premise: Reform UK’s economic proposals, centred on sweeping tax cuts and contentious spending reductions, represent not a politics of hope, but a thinly veiled return to austerity and trickle-down economics that favours the wealthy at the expense of public services and the vulnerable.

In the contemporary British political landscape, Reform UK has positioned itself as a radical alternative, promising to slash waste, cut taxes, and unlock economic growth.[1] However, a closer examination of their 2024 manifesto and subsequent policy announcements reveals a framework built on familiar, and many argue failed, economic ideologies. The party’s platform, which proposes massive tax cuts funded by equally large spending reductions, has been flagged by economic experts as “financially unrealistic” and reliant on “extremely optimistic assumptions.”[2][3][4] This analysis suggests that behind the rhetoric of hope lies a program of deep austerity and trickle-down economics, threatening the very fabric of public services and social support systems.

The Austerity Agenda: Deep and Unspecified Cuts

Reform UK’s fiscal plan is predicated on achieving £150 billion in annual savings to fund nearly £90 billion in tax cuts and £50 billion in spending increases.[5] A significant portion of these savings, £50 billion to be exact, is expected to come from cutting “wasteful” spending across government departments.[5][6] However, the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) has warned that saving such a substantial sum would “almost certainly require substantial cuts to the quantity or quality of public services” and go far beyond a simple crackdown on waste.[5][7]

This approach is characteristic of austerity, where broad, often unspecified, cuts to public expenditure are implemented to reduce the budget deficit, frequently impacting frontline services. The IFS has stated that Reform UK is proposing a “very different vision for the role of government,” one that involves “much lower taxes, paid for with large, unspecified cuts to public services.”[7] This raises serious concerns about the future of essential services that citizens rely on.

Further austerity-aligned policies include the proposed £30 billion annual saving from scrapping net-zero commitments and green energy subsidies.[8] While presented as a measure to reduce household bills, this move would dismantle long-term environmental strategies and could have far-reaching economic and environmental consequences. Similarly, a planned £15 billion cut to the welfare bill is aimed at getting people “back to work,” a common refrain in austerity narratives that often overlooks the complex reasons for unemployment and economic inactivity.

Trickle-Down Economics: Benefiting the Few, Not the Many

At the heart of Reform UK’s economic strategy is a series of tax cuts that disproportionately benefit businesses and high earners, a hallmark of trickle-down economics. The theory posits that reducing the tax burden on the wealthy and corporations will stimulate investment, create jobs, and ultimately benefit everyone. However, historical evidence and economic studies have repeatedly challenged this notion, showing that such policies often exacerbate income inequality without delivering significant economic growth.[9][10]

Key proposals from Reform UK include reducing the main corporation tax rate from 25% to 15% and abolishing inheritance tax for estates under £2 million.[11][12] The IFS has noted that the costing for the corporation tax cut is less than half of what official estimates suggest the long-run cost would be.[5] These measures, along with plans to raise the income tax personal allowance to £20,000, would indeed leave more money in some pockets.[11] However, analysis from the IPPR think tank indicates that the wealthiest fifth of households would gain significantly more from these changes than the poorest 20%.[13]

This approach has been criticized as a “right-wing, free-market libertarian playbook” that would do little to help the working-class families Reform claims to champion, while providing a substantial boost to the super-rich.[13] Critics argue that this focus on top-end tax cuts ignores the immediate needs of a population grappling with a cost of living crisis and struggling public services.[14]

Unrealistic Projections and a “Problematic” Package

The feasibility of Reform UK’s entire economic plan has been called into question by leading economic analysts. The IFS has bluntly stated that “the sums in this manifesto do not add up,” describing the package as “problematic.”[3][5] They project that the proposed tax cuts would cost “tens of billions of pounds a year more” than Reform anticipates, while the spending reductions would save less than stated.[3][5]

This significant fiscal gap suggests that, if implemented, Reform UK’s policies would either lead to a massive increase in government borrowing, a move that could destabilize the economy, or necessitate even deeper cuts to public services than currently admitted. The party’s rejection of criticism, with leader Nigel Farage describing the proposals as “outside the box,” does little to inspire confidence in their fiscal credibility.[3]

The Politics of Misery

By cloaking austerity and trickle-down economics in the language of “common sense” and “hope,” Reform UK presents a vision that, upon closer inspection, threatens to entrench inequality and dismantle the public sphere. Their proposals rely on unrealistic savings to fund tax cuts for the wealthy, a formula that has historically led to underfunded public services and a fraying social safety net.[15]

This is not a politics of hope for the average worker, the pensioner, or the family reliant on the NHS. It is a politics of exploitation and misery, where the burden of fiscal adjustment falls on the shoulders of the many, while the benefits flow to the few. The promise of a revitalized Britain, freed from the shackles of high taxes and “wasteful” spending, is a seductive one. However, the reality of Reform UK’s economic agenda is a future of diminished public services and widened social divisions.