Having a Laugh
Hugo Rifkind writing in The Times makes a better job than any politician of taking on the ridiculous arguments of Nigel Farage and his Ukip supporters.
I missed the documentary programmes on BBC 2 and Channel 4, but I can just imagine the sequence involving Neil Kinnock and the poisonous effect this would have on many viewers who would regard it as the political classes looking after themselves yet again - with a highly lucrative job as a European Commissioner after standing down as Labour leader before retiring to a nice little sinecure in the House of Lords.
I think the secret to dealing with Nigel Farage is not to take the man or his party too seriously, and I especially like the fact that Hugo Rifkind can laugh at himself as well as others.
Hugo Rifkind on TV: Nigel Farage: Who Do You Think You Are?; Girls
Jeff Overs / BBC / Reuters
By Hugo Rifkind
Nigel Farage: Who Do You Think You Are? (Channel 4)
The European Union: In or Out? (BBC Two)
Girls (Sky Atlantic)
Ah, Nigel Farage. With your pinstripe suit, and your camel-hair overcoat, and your face that those men who wield swords in Turkish takeaways must sometimes try to recreate for a bet on their revolving columns of greying, sweaty meat. Yes, you. This was your week.
Although every week, these days, seems to be Nigel Farage’s week. Some time soon, maybe Britain’s top three parties will be led by him, Boris Johnson and Ed Miliband. What an era! Just a bunch of normal blokes, with whom anyone could have a normal drink in the pub. Except for Ed Miliband. Not that I’m ever clear why it matters that wanting to have a drink with somebody in a pub is such a big deal, anyway. Given the choice, I’d probably opt for a night out with Abbey Clancy over any of them, and I’m not sure her views on the European Commission would be up to much.
The thing about Farage, though, is that he lives in a place called “the real world”. Which makes him, of course, quite unlike you, me and Nick Clegg, etc, because we all live in Narnia, or perhaps The Matrix. Pay attention, metropolitan scum! That’s not a real spoon in your hand! Only Nigel has a real spoon! Take the blue pill!
According to Nigel Farage: Who Are You? the real world of Nigel Farage is in fact a small village in Kent. Seems bloody lovely. No wonder all those immigrants want to move there. But how strange that none of them have.
Of course, aside from living in this real world, Nigel also spent 20 years working in another famously real world, which is the City of London. “I come back to the City for a dose of common sense and a good laugh!” he told Martin Durkin, the film-maker. Then he started ordering bottles of claret left, right and centre, and trumping on about how right Margaret Thatcher was, and how wonderful bankers are. Just like all real, normal people are wont do. Such as the driver of your bus this week, for example, or that bloke in that shop.
For all that, this was not a bad documentary, if periodically a bit cloying. Farage is on strong ground, clearly, with the sheer undemocratic, unrepresentative, distant, vast, sprawling and lavish nonsense that is the European Parliament. Interspersing this with snippets of an interview with Neil Kinnock was a devastating trick. “Seriously?” you could imagine viewers saying, all across the real (the real real) world of Britain. “This man is still somehow involved in our governance? Even so many years after we made it so very plain we didn’t want him to be?”
Kinnock was impatient and furious, throughout, and did neither himself nor the EU any favours. And, while Farage does look like a Bash Street Kid who took up estate agenting when the Beano cheques dried up, he was still funny and charming enough to be doing himself plenty. Durkin, who seems more sympathetic to his inclinations than many (and certainly more so than me) was nonetheless pretty deft in exposing the contradictions in the Ukip worldview. I mean, look, Nige. You can either be a Thatcherite free-trade zealot, or you can be a kick-em-out Little Englander. But you can’t be both at once.
Where this badly failed, though, was with the proper red meat. There was a whole cast of right-wing-ish talking heads, which was a rarity in itself, but they all said exactly the same thing and got away with it. “The EU is taking the most enormous decisions!” said Simon Heffer. Such as? “If they tried to do the same stuff here, we’d have a massive debate about it!” said Kelvin MacKenzie. What stuff? Name some stuff! Go on. Please.
That’s Farage all over, though. He peddles in half-truths with the power to make us comfortable, because they reassure us that the world’s complexities are somebody’s fault. That’s true whether he’s shouting on oppression from Brussels, or about this aloof, elite conspiracy he’s spotted, which apparently includes everybody who ever gets on the news except for him.
“Cozy establishment, my arse,” I found myself muttering, by the end of this, when he was shouting about just this from the stage at a big Westminster luncheon. And then, as the camera panned back, over the shoulders of Andrew Neil, under the ear of Boris Johnson, and right next to Jon Snow, I genuinely spotted the back of my own head. I don’t know what to say, really. It was a free lunch and I don’t get out much.
On, then, to Nigel’s next trick, which was round two of his head-to-head with Nick Clegg, this time chaired by David Dimbleby. Poor Nick Clegg seems exhausted. The only bit of him that retains the sheen of 2010 is his shiny golden tie.
I’m a big fan of these TV jousts of ours, and I hope we have more of them. Word has it that David Cameron would love to weasel out of one before the next general election, and he shouldn’t be allowed. We should have them every week. According to polls, most viewers sided with Farage, which was depressing given that Clegg used actual facts and stuff, but not that surprising. I mean, if populism wasn’t even popular, they’d have to change the name. Funny old world, though, when the guy who wants to smash the system is a public school commodities broker called Nigel.
In non-Nigel news, meanwhile, this week also gave us the season finale of Girls. Hannah split up with Adam, Marnie snogged that guitarist she fancied, Shoshanna flunked college and was sad, and Jessa tried to help an old sick artist commit suicide, but then called 911 when it turned out she didn’t want to after all. No idea what that last bit was about. Sometimes it’s like Jessa is in a totally different show.
It’s a funny thing, Girls. I have found myself watching it religiously, even though I hate the lot of them. Except for Ray, maybe. He’s the depressive older guy who spends all of his time staring at much younger girls he doesn’t really like at all, in a manner which utterly fails to make him happy. Let’s not probe too deeply into that one, eh?
Also, I have found myself warming to Marnie, the uptight princess one, even though whole swaths of the plot revolve around the way she is definitely meant to be awful. Having given this some thought (indeed, probably too much thought) I have developed a theory.
Bear with me, but I think the girls of Girls are the Beatles. Hannah is John, because it’s her show. Jessa is George, because she’s druggy like that, and Shoshanna is definitely Ringo, because she acts and dresses like a clown. This makes Marnie Macca, which is harsh but also makes some sense, because he always did have that slightly needy streak.
Yeah? Granted, you may feel that the Beatles were Paul’s band really, which makes Hannah him, and Marnie John, but I would counter that this can’t be right because Marnie wants to be John. Which thus makes her Paul, like I said in the first place. Think about it.
