: Owen Bennett
: Following Farage On the Trail of the People's Army
: Biteback Publishing
: 9781849549516
: 1
: CHF 8.90
:
: Politikwissenschaft
: English
: 304
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Hunting with Godfrey Bloom; lunching on expenses with Janice Atkinson; talking 'shock and awful' campaign tactics with Douglas Carswell - nothing is off the table when you're on the trail of UKlP's People's Army. Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 meets Louis Theroux, Following Farage recounts one hack's journey as he follows, drinks with, laughs at and even occasionally defends the phenomenon that is the United Kingdom lndependence Party as it prepares to march upon Westminster. With exclusive interviews and unfettered access to all the disgraced generals, trusty foot soldiers, deserters and dissenters who make up its ranks, Bennett delivers the inside scoop on what makes the People's Army tick - all the while making the transition from elbowed-out hanger-on to the journalist Farage calls for an honest, post-election run-down of events. From the initial skirmishes and battle plans (the successful and the scuppered) to the explosive events of the battle for No. 10 itself - and the all-out civil war that broke out in its aftermath - Following Farage leaves no stone unturned, avenue untrod or pint undrunk in its quest for the truth about Britain's newest and most controversial political force.

11 APRIL 2013


‘DEXYS FUCKING MIDNIGHT RUNNERS,’ he spat out with venom. The group’s biggest hit ‘Come On Eileen’ was blaring out of the pub’s speakers.

‘Not a fan?’ I asked. (Us journalists can pick up on subtle hints like these.)

Nigel Farage sniffed before replying: ‘Honestly, I would ban music in pubs.’

He took another gulp of his ale.

I didn’t really know what to say to that. I’ve got nothing against Dexys. Granted, ‘Geno’ is a far superior tune to ‘Come On Eileen’, but I don’t think it was Kevin Rowland’s musical shift from a Northern Soul-influenced New Wave act to chart-topping pop star that had annoyed Farage.

Despite the anti-Dexys – or, rather, music in general – proclamation, Farage looked relaxed. Of course he was. He was in his comfort zone – drinking warm ale in a pub after spending an hour working up a thirst by canvassing. He was relaxed now, but the day hadn’t started off smoothly.

The UKIP bus had broken down, making him late. An hour and a half before our lunchtime pint, I had been with a small crowd of UKIP supporters gathered by the clock tower in the town centre waiting for Farage’s arrival. There were no more than thirty of them, but they stood out. To be honest, any group of people gathered together in Hoddesdon town centre on a damp, grey morning in April is going to stand out. The Hertfordshire town is not known for its hustle and bustle. The purple balloons attached to a table, complete with a giant UKIP banner tied between two bollards, added to the spectacle.

But still, it was only thirty people. I certainly didn’t look at them and think they were a ‘People’s Army’. But this was April 2013, before all the ‘People’s Army’ rhetoric. Before the UKIP fox was in the Westminster hen house. Before defections.

Farage was well known, but still seen by many – especially in the media – as an eccentric. Some felt he was dangerous; some felt he was comical; most felt he was irrelevant.

UKIP had a handful of MEPs, but they kept defecting, getting sacked or saying ridiculous things such as all Muslims should sign a declaration promising they weren’t going to become terrorists.

The party seemed destined to be on the political fringes. Even after successes in the European elections in 2009 and 2004, UKIP had failed to win any seats in the Commons in the following years’ general elections. It only had seven local councillors across England, and support for the party was erratic – its polling fluctuated between 10 and 17 per cent in the first eleven days of that April alone.

Farage was coming to Hoddesdon as part of that year’s local election campaign, and it was to be my first of many encounters with him.

Margaret Thatcher had died earlier that week, and suddenly everyone was a Eurosceptic Tory again. Good old Maggie, she wouldn’t have taken any of this nonsense from the EU. She would have controlled immigration. She would have defended our high-powered vacuums. She wouldn’t have voted to keep us in a single-market union in 1975. Well, maybe not the last one.

I was working for theHertfordshire Mercury and, although Hoddesdon wasn’t my patch – I had recently been given the much quieter beat of Buntingford – I had been sent down to