As seen in the Guardian
It’s the end of the hottest summer in British history, and the business reception at Reform conference is in full swing. Disaster capitalists schmooze with reactionary Cambridge theologians and tech bros over canapés and flutes of prosecco. Presiding over all is a grinning Nigel Farage, face bathed in the lurid purple–pink light of the VIP lounge as he works the crowd.
And in a corner is your humble correspondent. I’ve come on short notice, standing in for Anna Isaac, an old Tab chum who has been blocked thanks to her no-holds-barred investigative journalism. My assignment? To lift the stone and find the dark money crawling underneath. And what better place to look than here, where a pact between populism and the private sector is being brokered?
Presiding over all is a grinning Nigel Farage, face bathed in the lurid purple-pink light of the VIP lounge
The music is pulsing. The lights are dancing. A bout of hyena-like laughter erupts from a gaggle of City bounders and crypto shockjocks standing nearby. A waiter offers me a salmon puff – which I politely but firmly decline. The silhouette of Richard Tice comes into view. ‘Hi Clair, fantastic to see you,’ he says, grabbing my hand and shaking it. Be on your guard, Clair, I think to myself. That wideboy charm is how they get you.
