The meteoric rise of Reform UK from the fringes of British politics to a potential party of government has been a story of potent rhetoric and populist appeal. Yet, as columnist Brian Reade observes, this very success now places the party and its vast new cohort of local councillors under a harsh and unforgiving spotlight. The central, pressing question is: how many of the more than 1,450 newly elected Reform representatives will be undone by the intense scrutiny that comes with real political power? For years, the outlandish statements of figures orbiting Nigel Farage were often dismissed as the ramblings of a marginalised fringe. Reade recalls the era of UKIP’s Godfrey Bloom and his offensive “Bongo Bongo Land” remark, or councillor David Silvester blaming floods on divine retribution for gay marriage. Even David Cameron’s infamous “fruitcakes, loonies and closet racists” jibe was met by Farage with a performative shrug about having a sense of humour. That defence, Reade notes pointedly, has not aged well.
The transition from UKIP to the Brexit Party and now to Reform UK has been marked by a dramatic scaling-up of operations and influence, fueled by social media and a powerful anti-establishment message. However, this growth has also led to what Reade vividly describes as an “open day in the sewage works,” with a troubling number of problematic individuals drawn to the party’s banner. The recent local elections provided stark examples: Daniel Devaney winning in Bradford despite alleged posts calling Muslims “pure scum,” Stuart Prior resigning in Essex over racist material, Jay Cooper in Sefton promoting Holocaust denial, and Glenn Gibbins in Sunderland under investigation for a violently racist post. These are not isolated historical footnotes, Reade emphasises, but newly elected officials, with up to 30 already under investigation mere days after taking office.
This pattern raises profound concerns about Reform’s vetting processes, which Reade suggests are as full of holes as “Bernard Manning’s old string vest.” The core appeal of Farage and Reform is built on being “one of us”—ordinary, patriotic outsiders fighting a corrupt system. Yet, this carefully crafted image is increasingly at odds with the realities emerging within the party’s own ranks. If the grassroots are populated by individuals expressing such extreme views, and the party machinery is unable or unwilling to filter them out, it fundamentally challenges the authenticity of Reform’s claim to represent a decent, silent majority. The “normal bloke” persona is strained not just from below, but from above as well.
Reade turns the “one of us” argument back on the leadership itself. How many ordinary people, he asks, receive a mysterious £5 million gift from a crypto-billionaire, as Farage is now being investigated for by the parliamentary sleaze watchdog? Similarly, he highlights Deputy Leader Richard Tice’s company having avoided nearly £100,000 in corporation tax—a legal manoeuvre, Tice argues, that everyone should pursue. Reade pointedly counters: “Is that the way to save your country?” These cases, he implies, paint a picture of a party whose top brass may be engaging in the very kind of elite, self-interested behaviour they claim to despise, thereby embodying the hypocrisy they ascribe to the political mainstream.
Herein lies the pivotal moment for Reform, Reade argues. Politics is indeed easy to criticise from the sidelines, but the brutal truth is that success invites a reciprocal and unforgiving examination. For years, Reform and its predecessors have levelled ferocious criticism at the “elitist hellhole” of Westminster and town halls, populated by what they see as self-serving charlatans. Now, as they become a genuine part of that system, the mirror is being turned squarely upon them. Every racist post from a councillor, every questionable financial arrangement at the top, will be subjected to the same “ferocious judgment” they have long demanded of others. The rules of the game have changed now that they are players, not just protesters.
In conclusion, Reade’s analysis serves as a stark welcome to political reality. To those new Reform councillors and their leaders, he offers a simple, symbolic gesture: “Here’s a mirror. Take a good look.” The coming months will test whether the party can transition from a protest movement to a responsible political force. It must decide if it will purge the “maggots low on intelligence but high on poison” and clarify the ethical standards of its leadership, or if it will succumb to the very toxins it once claimed to oppose. The judgment they face will be as ferocious as any they ever dished out, and their longevity depends entirely on how they now choose to see themselves.
