Nigel Farage annoys the hell out of me. He’s a former broadcaster, a flamboyant, pompous loudmouth who thinks Britain can do just fine on its own by circling the wagons and closing doors and, apparently, just returning to the good old days of some sort of prideful self-sustenance. It’s a short walk from what he’s selling to racist isolationism. The fact that he and Trump see eye to eye on some things should tell us everything we need to know about him. He’s a fount of arrogance.
His critique of the new PM—that he’s boring—is boring in its own right. I’d take boring any day, if Keir Starmer can deliver on his promises.