The UK’s main political parties have decided not to take part in the Clacton-on-Sea by-election, leaving one comical candidate to stand against Farage. What does it say about the state of British politics?
In an episode of the beloved BBC comedy Blackadder, the eponymous character connives to get his idiot sidekick Baldrick elected to parliament. Among Baldrick’s rivals for the seat of Dunny-on-the-Wold is an oppressively jovial figure identified as Ivor Biggun, representing the Standing At The Back Dressed Stupidly And Looking Stupid Party. The gag might have bewildered non-British viewers: it was a weary commentary on the phenomenon of the novelty candidate, a perennial pestilence upon UK politics. In coming weeks, the world will learn more than it wants or needs to about one such character.
Nigel Farage, leader of Reform UK – the party presently topping British polls – announced this week, in his usual tones of petulant self-pity, that he would resign his seat of Clacton to run for it again via a by-election, apparently hoping to deflect attention from his unorthodox finances.
Every other major party has correctly declined to participate in the circus. As things stand, Farage’s main rivals include Laurence Fox – an actor who leads the Reclaim Party and would otherwise only appear in a seaside town such as Clacton while playing the hind legs of a pantomime horse in an end-of-the-pier production of Dick Whittington – and a man with a bin on his head.
Count Binface – the creation of comedian Jonathan Harvey – is the most prominent current heir to Britain’s wretched tradition of novelty candidates. If we’re looking for someone to blame, we might choose Bill Boaks – a Second World War naval officer who was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross at Dunkirk, then from the 1950s onwards made a nuisance of himself in 28 elections and by-elections. Boaks was morbidly obsessed with road safety and campaigned on a self-built armoured bicycle; other stunts included stopping his placard-bedecked car in the middle of motorways.
Boaks’s tactics were noted by David Sutch, a hapless rock singer who reinvented himself as Screaming Lord Sutch and founded the Official Monster Raving Loony Party (OMRLP) in 1982. Its subsequent escapades have done nothing to disprove the ironclad law that anybody who advertises themselves as “loony” (see also “zany”, “kooky”, “barmy”, “madcap” or “mental”) is an excruciating bore. The OMRLP is still plodding obstinately along, doubtless greatly delighting the sort of person whose office wall bears a sign saying, “You don’t have to be crazy to work here – but it helps!”
The OMRLP also intends to field a candidate in Clacton, possibly their current leader, Howling Laud Hope, who – like Count Binface – contested the recent Makerfield by-election that returned presumptive prime minister Andy Burnham to parliament (Hope polled 45 votes; Binface 95). Burnham also found himself obliged to accept the congratulations of another candidate in a fox costume: a few weeks earlier, the same person, wildlife campaigner Rob Pownall, ran for Scotland’s parliament dressed as a gannet.
There is obviously nothing wrong with making jokes about politics. But Binface and other novelty candidates contrive to make politics a joke. They are trivial attention-seekers, making witless japes. In so doing, they reinforce the notion that this is all a lark and that none of it really matters. Any such debasement of discourse only abets cynical populists like Nigel Farage, who profit from citizens internalising the idea that politics is unserious.
In the peculiar case of Clacton – a party leader running against a slate entirely composed of novelty candidates – voters have the opportunity to exact a splendid vengeance upon these pests. Electing Binface and burdening him with the responsibilities of being an MP would be an instructive cold shower. It might even work out. In 2002, the people of Hartlepool elected the mascot of local football team Hartlepool United, H’Angus The Monkey, as their mayor. The 28-year-old call centre operative inside the ape suit, Stuart Drummond, turned out to be a pretty good leader: Hartlepool re-elected him twice more.
Mueller is a Monocle contributing editor and the host of Monocle Radio’s ‘The Foreign Desk’. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Further reading: Who is Andy Burnham? The man hoping to be the UK’s seventh prime minister in 10 years
