“Whatcha Nige old chap, your usual pint of British Bulldog Ale is it?”

“Do you know landlord I cannot make my mind up although my taste buds are, oddly, gagging for a little Belgium number. The desire for a chilled bottle of Flemish Monk Gobsnorter brewed in Brussels overwhelms me. And by the way would you mind turning off that bloody music as I’m afraid the constant looping of Vera Lynn belting out ‘There’ll be Bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover’ is frankly getting on my tits.”

“Crikey Nige are you feeling alright?”

“Tell the truth I’m not sure.  Anyway I am being beckoned by a heavily pregnant woman even as we talk. What can I do for you dear?”

“Well Mr Farage as you can see I am well and truly up the duff yet seek gainful employment even though I shall shortly be seeking 6 years maternity leave. Whilst aware your lot are anti-giving jobs to the likes of females such as myself I was wondering if you might just help a poor girl like me out?”

“No probs, no probs at all you can be my personal assistant if that tickles your fancy.”

“Even though my fancy has been well and truly tickled previously I simply can’t thank you enough. Would you like to say hello to my friend Ndola Ndola who has just arrived in the UK illegally in the back of a freezer container via Calais and the Port of Dover from the ravages of his life in war torn Somalia where his entire family have been butchered and he himself has been subject to death threats if he ever shows his face back in Mogadishu.”

“Ndola what a pleasure to meet you my friend. Having heard the story of your family’s sad demise may I welcome you to this great nation of ours. For my part charity and compassion are my second nature. I do hope you have a good life here – and here’s a few spondoolies from yours truly to help you settle in. And I might add you’re welcome to lodge at my place until you get sorted.”

“Nigel as landlord of the pub and a supporter of the UKIP I am compelled to express my concern as to your demeanour this lunchtime.  In normal circumstances you’d have had one of your ruffian chums kick this illegal immigrant in the bollocks and have him thrown back into the Channel where he heralded from with house bricks firmly affixed to his ankles.  Anyway where are you holidaying this year?”

“Oh I thought we’d – that is the wife and I – would do the European Tour, France, Italy and all that; you know extend a little bonhomie toward our European cousins. Maybe even check out a spot for a second home over there. Seems a plan anyway.”

“Now I know there’s something seriously up old chap. Plainly you’re not feeling yourself. Talking of which there’s that gay chap I barred last week for being a gay chap entering my boozer again. Right queer boy you can fuck off out of it.”

“Hang on there landlord he seems a pleasant enough chap to me. May I ask you name Sir?”

“Brian, Mr Farage and I am sick and tired of being treated like a piece of shit everywhere I go just because I bowl from the pavilion end. It’s out of order in my considered view.”

“Brian how awful. Landlord reinstate this chappies drinking rights forthwith and you know what Brian you can cover as my personal assistant for the 6 years maternity leave my newly appointed assistant is shortly to take. Sound good to you?”

“Oh Mr Farage what a great man you are. I will readily accept your offer and may I invite you and your good lady to my gay wedding to Cuthbert in Brighton on Saturday?”

“Only too pleased to accept Brian – and I’ll give the press the nod. You never know we may all get our mug shots in Hello Magazine.”

“Nigel your barred – piss off.”

“Landlord how dare you, you racist, fascist, homophobic anti-EU and anti-immigration twat. Stuff your pub.”



    1. Certainly that’s what Farage and his like need – a psychologist that is. There’s right wing politics a whole population can live with yet shift a little too far right; become overly protectionist then it all goes horribly wrong. Same applies with left wing politics as well. Bet you a glad you don’t live here!

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