The Purple Revolution by Nigel Farage – digested read

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/mar/22/the-purple-revolution-nigel-farage-digested-read

Version 0 of 1.

It felt like Krakatoa had gone up. And that was just my hangover. I needed a quicvk pint, I can tell you. Either that or a proof-reader to spellchek what I had wrote last night. The polls were in and I had trounced that fool Clegg in the first European debate. But I couldn’t aford to take any chances by copying bits The City was a bloody good place to work back in the 80s that I had wrote in earlier book and pasting in the wrong place. The so-called liberal media have always had it in for Ukip, so I decided to go on the wagon before the next debate. Tough times call for tough choices.

The City was a bloody good place to work back in the 80s. A chap could smoke a pack of Rothmans, neck a few pints, lose a couple of mill and still have time to go out for a 12-hour lunch. Nige’s 12-12, we called it. It was the European Johans who spolit things, of course, by introducing a whole load of health and legislation along with some financial oversight and compliance red tape. The day that lot came in was the day I went to the pub. Like most days.

No one is keeener on the NHS than me. Whatever those fools Cameron, Miliband and Clegg may say. But you can’t blame a chap for having a few reservations when he wakes up to find he has a searing pain in one of his unfeasibly large testicles that not even a bottle of Scotch can dull, and an Indian quack tells him he’s just got a bit of an infection. While I’m on the subject, I should also make one thinng clear. I’m not a racist. I quite like Indians and I don’t mention the fact that the useless GP was Indian for any other reason than I happen to find people’s ethnicity quite interesting. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went to a private hospital where I was diagnosed with cancer and the offending gonad was sent packing. Enough said.

What makes me different to other politicians is that I can talk to ordinary people in a language they understand. Unless they are Polish or Romanian. There’s a bit here about Robert Kilroy-Silk that I can’t remember the punchline, too, as it’s a bit late and I’ve had a few but hopefully someone will remember to sort this out in the final edit. Or perhaps not. I’ve always been attracted to risk. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Deciding to walk home in an alcoholic blackout didn’t turn out so well as I was run over by a car, but on the whole joining Ukip has gone pretty well considering.

To be fair, my first five years as an MEP didn’t go terribly well through I did achieve a few bits an pieces such as fishing. The main thing people in Britain need to know about Brussels though is that it’s an absolute dump where it’s impossible to buy a decent pint and everyone is fiddling expenses. Apart from Janice “Ting-Tong” Atkinson, whose staff seem to be doing it in Margate as well. Keep up the good work, Janice! Seriously, after the last general election I took a good look at how Ukip was run and decided it was time for the Kippers to be more professional. I then went and had a few drinks with Godfrey Bloom who went on and on about sluts. To give him his due, the Bloomster might have had one too many, but he did have a point.

You could hear the earthquakes firing off in the offices of those fools Cameron and Miliband when Douglas Carswell jumped ship to join the party. I will never forget that evening. “Ukip embodies the finest Gladstonian liberal traditions,” he said to me. Well, knock me sideways, I needed a few stiffeners after that. “Are you sure you’re joining the right party, old boy?” I said to him. Next came Mark Reckless. Great guy, Great name.

Anyway, Ukip is now on a roll. Though, between you and me, I’m going to face a tough fight in South Thanet and if it doesn’t work out, I don’t know what I will do next. Something will turn up probably. I’m sorry, I’ve had a few and I’m starting to get a bit a maudling. Do you mind if we leave it at this? If there aren’t enough words, then just double-space it.

Digested read, digested: Purple, pissed and proud.