Nigel Farage

This man is the epitome of everything I despise about this country. The frog-eyed twat has been the driving force behind the greatest political upheaval and division of British society in my lifetime and, as a result, henceforth on this blog he shall be known as Nigel Garage, after the place where we want to throw all our useless shit and hope that our families never have to look at it.

Not only is this piss-flap of an excuse for a man politically objectionable, but his personal demeanour is such a glaringly obvious indication of his underlying character that the fact that the British public seem oblivious to it casts more of an unpleasant shadow over them than it does over the haddock-faced fuckwit himself.

So unpleasant and viscerally repugnant is this man that, despite the fact that this entire sorry affair can be attributed to his poisonous influence, his fellow leave campaigners don't want to be associated with him. It's like a horribly nasty, far-right equivalent of everyone avoiding Martin Luther King Jr after his "I have a dream" speech, or Einstein being asked to wait outside at the famous 5th Solvay Conference in 1927. What is most galling about this is that, despite the weasely, bullshitting and downright vicious nature of this imbecile, he is arguably the most successful political speaker in our time. In a period where schoolgirls like Malala Yousafzai receive the Nobel Peace prize for standing up for girls' education, where individuals and organisations the world over seek to unify the human race and bring peace to billions, how is it that this complete arse-wipe manages to command the respect of so many people?

Even his school masters were concerned about the rampant fascism manifested in this man when he was a child [source], and even though such concerns have surfaced on social media and across more traditional channels, his adoring masses seem swallowed in by his vile rhetoric, and it really doesn't suggest a pleasant impression of what lies beneath.

One must consider, when attempting to understand why people follow the people they follow, that it is difficult for an orator to elicit in his or her audience an emotion or reaction which does not agree with sentiments already held, at least in some small way, by that audience. The skill that Garage has in such abundance is the ability to legitimise those feelings within people. Everybody knows what a repugnant, bile-filled pustule this man is, and that's precisely the problem; no matter how inappropriate or unpleasant the feelings of an individual are, Garage is always worse. Whilst he rails against the establishment, he is simply a part of it, and if the establishment are allowed to be xenophobic ignorami, then why shouldn't the electorate behave in similarly abhorrent ways?

The worst thing about this political shoe-scraping, this exemplar of hate who seeks to drag human political development back to a time when the guys in the adjacent valley were strange and exotic, is that he's not alone. Across our great continent and over the wide seas, these beacons of fear and prejudice are erupting, vile white-heads on the greasy teenage skin of the human race. Their voices are shouting louder and louder whilst the voices of reason, tolerance and progress are being swamped beneath the clamour.