If there was a World Cup for whining, Nigel Farage would have already won it for England. The self-pity and bogus victimhood oozed from his every pore just now as he sought to lay responsibility for his own greed and arrogance at the door of pretty much everyone except Nigel Farage.
It is not hard to see why he elected to make his absurd announcement in an empty room – his supposed excellence at dealing with media scrutiny and probing questions has been exposed in recent weeks as yet another sham.
And the decision to call a by-election, which will do nothing to prevent urgent and necessary investigations into his financial affairs if he wins it, is another almighty distraction designed to appeal to voters he appears to hold in even deeper contempt than truth and accountability.
But it also shows why I have been reluctant to join the celebrations of his imminent political demise and why the original version of this column, written before yesterday’s North Korean-style address, argued that it is far too early to write him off.
Farage’s ability to wriggle off hooks and slither out of trouble remains woefully underpriced. His political life of slime is unparalleled in modern times and probably far from over.
