My pick of the election news this week is the announcement that Nigel Farage - the leader of the campaign to bring back the 1970s - has signed a deal to publish a book entitled The Purple Revolution: They Year That Changed Everything. The book, Farage's entirely justified second memoir, after 2011's Flying Free, will handily be released just before the UK's May general election, and take us, '...behind the caricature of the beer-drinking, chain smoking adventurer... to describe the values that underpin Farage's own journey.' A journey that took him from being the millionaire son of a Kent stockbroker to becoming a millionaire stockbroker from Kent himself. A heady, against-all-odds transformation, Dickensian in its scale. And a journey which all-but-demands a second lucrative autobiography in the space of four years from a man also paid handsomely to advertise socially beneficial bookmakers Paddy Power.
But when going behind a caricature which Farage himself has in no way consciously created, what the leader of the campaign to stick your fingers in your ears when anyone says 'France' may not reveal is that he is an immortal, shape-shifting extraterrestrial lizard sent to earth to milk humans of their hopes and love. What his new book will probably not touch on is that Farage – the leader of the campaign to insist that national borders are not arbitrary, historical geo-political constructs, but instead are eternal, sacred barriers outside of which louche barbarians ferment savage conspiracies to scupper John Bull - was beamed down from the mothership many centuries ago to propagate fear and loathing.
What this second biography of Farage – the leader of the campaign to be paid very well for a job you do not turn up to - will probably not touch on is that the moon is a hollow, reality-controlling supercomputer via which the lizard high-command mesmerise the human dwellers of planet earth into slavish obeisance. Scenes like the following may well be missing from Farage's desperately-needed second biography.
'I shifted into human form, becoming one of John F Kennedy's trusted security advisors, and manipulated the US President to secure his backing of NASA's Apollo moon landing programme. The issue was that the hollow moon's reality-controlling computing powers were on the blink and the entire planet needed rebooting. That was fine. Although lizard IT had not been returning our calls, there was a switch for rebooting the moon in the middle of the moon's Sea of Tranquillity. The problem – as ever – was getting the staff for the job. But JFK was amenable.'
Nor will the clamoured-for follow-up biography of Farage – the leader of the campaign for a bobby on every beat, a Jag in every drive and a strumpet behind every bar – include, we suspect the following admission.
'The year is 2152. After millennia of service on planet earth I have retired to the lizard mothership for some rest and recreation. Feeling thirsty, I walk to the fridge, removing a glass canister marked 'May 2015'. I peer at the transparent liquid. Ah yes, I remember, these were the human tears I harvested during one of the sapien's elections. I smile, open the canister and inhale. Oh, the perfume of human misery. So sweet. I glug, then glug again and replace the canister. Feeling refreshed I walk to the games room where I have arranged to meet Kris Kristofferson for a bit of ping pong.'
Nope, a scene like that is unlikely to make Farage's The Purple Revolution. Which is exactly why I'm considering rushing out an unauthorised biography of Farage for the election. Wonder if there'll be any takers?
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