Ukip’s rogue males, sexual harassment and money mixups – a byelection drama that’s in the Dynasty league
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Version 0 of 1. If politics is showbiz for ugly people, then Ukip is fast becoming its Dynasty: high camp, hilarious, and increasingly impossible not to tune in for. And both have starred Joan Collins, obviously. This week, though, Ukip has mostly been starring one Natasha Bolter, who has quit as the prospective candidate for South Basildon and East Thurrock and must now be prospective candidate for the Celebrity Big Brother house. (Come on Endemol: you’ve got to have a Kipper in there next month if you want to look au courant.) A former Labour activist, apparently, Natasha bolted from Ukip alleging sexual harassment by the party’s general secretary. His name: Roger Bird. And did he? It’s unclear. He says they did, while on Tuesday she said they didn’t, in a Newsnight interview so weirdly mesmerising that it felt like a perfectly looped Vine even while it was happening. Since then, some text messages have been released, the Hamiltons have parachuted in and parachuted out, Oxford University has declined to accept the credit for Natasha’s degree, and the suspended general secretary has implied he just gets around a bit. It’s like the old proverb says: in the land of the Ukip, the Roger Bird man is Alan Clark. Still, how times have changed. Only in September, Roger was introducing Natasha at the Ukip party conference thusly: “She got five grade As at A-levels, and went on to read PPE at Wadham College, Oxford.” Mm. She’s also my absolute favourite Bolter since the one in the Nancy Mitford books. The drama didn’t stop there, as indicated, because Ukip’s absolute commitment to WTF-ery saw the Hamiltons enter stage left to assume frontrunning duties in South Basildon. (It would technically just be Neil’s name on the ballot paper, of course, but LiS refuses to separate this most Chernobyl-inspired of nuclear family units.) So yes, early on Wednesday evening, the Hammies were on for the Bolter. Then I went out. By the time I got back, the Hammies had withdrawn from the process following some cosmic misunderstanding relating to Neil’s expenses. This is what is known in newspaper parlance as a “double blow”. It means 1) the Hammies won’t be returning to Westminster in an act of democracide so total it would make playing Candy Crush in a committee hearing look like something Lloyd George would have done; and 2) it’s too late for them to get a panto this year (their Baron Hardup and Fairy Godmother were very well received in Kettering not so long ago). I know what you’re wondering: who’s been parachuted in to South Basildon now? The Krankies? I’m afraid not. They could never make it at this short notice, being tied up in Cinderella with John Barrowman (a brave return to Glasgow, following the 2004 incident that led to a tastefully deadpan official statement from the Scottish Ambulance service: “Wee Jimmy Krankie fell out of the beanstalk onto the stage and was taken to Glasgow Royal Infirmary.”) So instead, the Hammies have been replaced by the person originally kicked out to make way for the Bolter. The situation in South Basildon is now, if you’ll forgive the lapse into politicalese, just one Martin Bell short of a clusterfuck. None of this is over, of course, but we’d better wind up with a quick roundup of where our dramatis personae are currently at. The Hammies are calling dirty tricks in South Basildon, so we can only await the couple’s next move, which, given their previous, could be anything from summer season in Great Yarmouth to a false Yewtree call up. Elsewhere, Roger Bird wants to clear his name – I think he should change his name, at the very least – while the Bolter may well be considering approaches from the more prestigious reality formats. Maybe Labour could triumphantly woo her back, testing to the absolute limit the political practice where literally any defection from one party to another is celebrated as though it’s 1981 and they’ve just bagged the Soviet Union’s top scientist. And finally, a disclaimer. Whenever you write about Ukip, all sorts of people get in touch to invite you to bugger off, explaining that the patronising lamestream media doesn’t understand the party but their bandwagon is bulldozing all the way to Westminster without you blahdy blahdy blah. And you know what? They’ve got me. I don’t understand Ukip. But you don’t have to understand something to enjoy it (as the Ukip candidate might have said during the closing credits of Topsy and Tim), and I’m perfectly happy to take a seat and shout “Oh no they didn’t!” at this time of year. |