The bell has rung for last orders, your propaganda pint has finally run dry and that arrogant smile has started to form a permanent feature on your face. The barman is tired: time for bed I think, Farage.
But this stubborn punter will not leave.
UKIP was a one-man band with one tune to its name: the sweet song of freedom from the shackles of the European Union. The man has bolted, leaving nothing but a few hotheaded leadership hopefuls in his place, and we have ‘gained’ our independence. The song is out-dated.
To add insult to injury, it seems like the band is heading for financial trouble. It has been reported this week that Insurance tycoon Aaron Banks, one of the party’s major donors, has threatened to withdraw his support. According to the Electoral Commission, UKIP owes £315,000 to three different donors.
Yet, while the orphaned UKIP huddles in its corner of Westminster, poor and directionless, his departed father is still very much alive. You would be forgiven for thinking we didn’t see enough of him in the run-up to the referendum. Earlier this month, we witnessed Farage dismissing the footage released of Donald Trump in which he talks of “grabbing” girls “by the pussy” as nothing more than “alpha-male boasting”. Only a few days ago, he told CNBC of the similarities between the Trump and ‘Brexit’ campaigns. Following the decision to leave the European Union, he disgraced the UK with a blatantly rude show at the EU parliament, accusing its members as having never done a “proper job”. And will we ever recover from the trauma brought about by hearing of his skinny-dipping on Bournemouth beach?
Unlike the leading figures on either side of June’s referendum, I have taken the time to formulate a few plans for ‘Nexit’. He could emigrate to America and assume the role of Trump’s wingman. He could ditch the staunch cigarette-and-pint-Englishman image (who believed it anyway?) and retire to Europe- I’ve heard his wife has contacts in Germany. Or, if he just can’t bring himself to drop the gimmick, a trip to the local Job Centre might find him the proper job he accused the entire EU Parliament of never having done.
I, for one, don’t want to see any more of Nigel’s face, let alone hear about his unclothed middle-aged body. We have left the European Union. It’s your turn now, Farage: please leave.