A vanishing campaign and a listless candidate — but Reform still came within a whisker of winning Doncaster

“Good afternoon, Doncaster!” The crowd thunders in applause. Here is the man they’ve all come to see, the man whose voice would be instantly recognised by almost anyone in the country, the man who inspires devotion and loathing in equal measure. “We can take control of this council, win the mayoralty and begin the process of turning this city around,” Nigel Farage declares.

A few minutes earlier I’d arrived at Doncaster Racecourse, being ushered in by some slightly scary doormen and the Reform media team into the building's cavernous main conference hall.  Loud, high energy music assaults our ears, including, most incongruously, Business by Eminem (must be a circus in town, let's shut the shit down). This is the big launch of Reform’s Doncaster campaign. In a city where 69% voted Brexit and an English Democrat was formerly mayor, you can see why they think they’ve got a good chance.

Looking back, these opening remarks would prove to be the high point of the mayoral campaign. As Farage continues, a heckler stands up. “You’re racist, Nigel Farage,” she shouts. After they are bundled out of the hall by some heavies, another one starts, and another, and another, variously referencing Palestine and the fact that child sex abuse is mostly perpetrated by white men. They’re quickly drowned out by chants from the crowd: “Out, out, out,”, “dickhead, dickhead,” and “Nigel, Nigel”.

Trying to regain some semblance of order, Farage uses the hecklers to make an unscheduled point. “Teaching unions in this country are poisoning the minds of young people,” he roars. “We will go to war with these left wing teaching unions. We will not be stopped by a ranting student mob.” Cue rapturous applause.

Getting back on track, Farage lists the issues Reform will be campaigning on. These include the national (small boats, asylum seekers, and what he calls “net stupid zero lunacy”) and the local (Doncaster Council spending money on “LGBT week” and “a £20 million cycle path that no one ever uses”). But the main event is the unveiling of Reform’s candidate for mayor. In Doncaster, the mayor is elected separately from the council, and grabbing the position would make a huge statement.

Rumours have been flying around about which celebrity or defecting Tory might have got the nod. But the party has kept a tight lid on who it might be, with even the most seasoned Doncaster politics watchers being left in the dark. Everyone leans forward an inch to catch the big name.

“The city needs a fresh start and a new boss,” continues Farage. So it’s going to be putting forward a “young businessman who is a great emblem for the multi-generational party” Reform has become: Alexander Jones. Immediately, the journalists around me start checking their phones. Alexander who? 

Jones takes to the stage and catastrophically fails to live up to Farage’s billing. In fact, he is one of the worst public speakers I have ever heard, his plodding through the script reminiscent of a six year old in the school nativity. All the energy drains out of the room. Sensing his guy is floundering, Farage comes to his rescue. “Can we have a big round of applause for this brave young man standing up,” he says. “Your first political speech is one of the most nerve wracking things you can do.” 

Jones was a strange pick. The 30-year-old former estate agent and foreign exchange trader is a far cry from the stereotype of a Reform voter. His Facebook page is much more focused on his gym sessions than politics. But maybe this isn’t so strange after all — Farage has made much of Reform’s popularity among “Gen Z” and the toned self-made businessman image might appeal to some in that group. The fact he was already running to be a local councillor has prompted some to claim that he was a last minute pick after a bigger name fell through with only hours to spare.