What Was the Point?

Across the land, grass has withered and died under the relentless glare of the burning sun. A climate catastrophe to be sure, but one that serves as an apt metaphor for the travails of Nigel Farage. At least as it exists in his and Reform's political imaginary. Instead of a drought, this was supposed to be Farage's evergreen summer. A hapless Prime Minister in office, racist pogroms to egg on and…