Brave little Farage to be complimented for still trying and failing for three decades

Showing true grit, Nigel Farage’s tenacity in the face of failure must be acknowledged. Having never been elected as an MP, to keep persevering shows massive self-belief or utter madness. Perhaps a bit of both.

He does epitomise the phrase, “If at first you don’t succeed, just change the party name and try again.”

A lot of people would have given up after five attempts, which makes it even more amazing that Nigel has failed seven times with UKIP. His first go was way, way back in 1994, the month after the Channel Tunnel was opened, possibly a triggering factor.

After changing to the Brexit party, Farage made a bold move of not even trying. This tactic, yet again, failed to mean he was elected anywhere but provided a good excuse.

After a brief practice dabble as a Member of the European Parliament (Well done you!), he decided that this, his only serious elected position, must be destroyed.

Failing with UKIP, not even bothering with Brexit Party, and now reforming as some other group, we shall have to see how this pans out. Nigel will not want the phrase “Rage Quitting” to be reformed as “Fa-Rage quitting”, so fingers crossed for this brave little chap.

It should be noted, his success at influencing the UK’s standing in Europe without ever being elected will have an impact for decades. So there’s that.

Image: Pixabay/TheDigitalArtist

Farage promises to cut tax from beer and fags

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The Island of Doctor Farage

Dearest Reader,

Behold the examinations made when I came upon a shore in the North Sea and found myself on the atrocious isle of Doctor Farage.

At a natural harbour, the Doctor greeted me with a warm handshake, borrowed £10 for a taxi inland and pocketed the pack when offered a cigarette.

On route to his laboratory, Farage explained had had received stewardship of the isle from a benefactor after a long period working overseas and found himself the custodian of a vast array of animal/human hybrids as well as a permanent seat on Question Time.

As we drove, I observed these poor demented creatures. Goose stepping Scots with black fur and pea brains. A large obnoxious Gallocat licking its taint in the sun. There were unions of swine and men, cat women and Quentin Blake illustrations, that I later realised was Jacob Rees Mogg. Pastafarianism was given form in half pasta, half meatball walking beasts. A tiny FishiRishi swam listlessly around in an ever decreasing puddle, perhaps sensing its imminent demise.

The Doctor offered me one of my own cigarettes and pointed out his prized BraverBird that squawked and gestured east towards Africa. We then arrived at the nearest Wetherspoons and a received an applause of hand, hoof and flipper on entry.

Flee! I tell you as I write these words, flee less he have pint of bitter with you all!

Image: Newsbiscuit