You can almost hear the screams from Westminster, can’t you? Every time Nigel Farage opens his mouth, the combined political classes of Primrose Hill and Holland Park react like a chorus of flashed spinsters, exposed to the hairy buttocks of a drunken navvy. Oh my word, he’s done it again! Someone stop him! Help!
But it’s a funny thing, this metropolitan fainting fit induced by anything connected to Ukip. To me it seems overdone; to me it suggests there are deeper psychological forces at work. After all, Ukip have yet to win a single MP at Westminster. So why do they invoke all these bladder-bursting conniptions in the chatterati?
Opinion formers would have it that Ukip’s opinions are the problem; i.e. the party is a bunch of crypto-fascists, the BNP with polished brogues, a bus-load of “loonies, fruitcakes and closet racists” (according to the PM). Therefore these barely concealed bigotries need to be exposed, by the scandalised elite, so the proles can react with proper aversion, and go back to dutifully voting Lib, Lab and Con.
But what are these appalling Kipper opinions, polices and personalities which so affront the Top Ten Thousand?