I have often observed that the British political landscape resembles a charity shop dumpster after a particularly rainy Tuesday: it is damp, smells of neglect, and consists entirely of discarded items that no one in their right mind would want. Today’s specific flavor of rot comes from the grand architect of self-promotion himself, Nigel Farage, who has decided to inform the world that his private limited company—which he insists on calling a political party—is not a 'rescue charity' for the panicked leftovers of the Conservative Party. It is a delicious moment of irony, watching a man whose entire career is a testament to opportunistic rebranding suddenly find his standards.

The context, for those of you who haven't yet checked out of reality entirely, is the supposed defection of Robert Jenrick. The Conservative Party is currently in the midst of a slow-motion implosion, a process that is as tedious as it is inevitable. As the ship goes down, the rats are looking for any scrap of wood to cling to, and Nigel’s 'Reform' raft looks tempting. But Farage, ever the gatekeeper of his own brand of populism, has issued a decree: Reform will not become 'Conservative Party 2.0.' He wants to maintain the illusion that he is offering something fresh, rather than just a recycled version of the same mid-range xenophobia and deregulation that the Tories have been failing at for fourteen years.

I find it fascinating that Farage uses the word 'charity.' A charity usually implies a selfless act of giving. Nigel Farage has never done anything that didn't involve a camera, a pint of ale, and a clear path to increasing his own relevance. To suggest that he is even being asked to provide charity is an insult to the word. What we are actually witnessing is a hostile takeover battle between two groups of people who have nothing to offer the public but their own unquenchable thirst for power. On one side, you have the Tories—a calcified collection of careerists who have forgotten what they stand for, if they ever knew. On the other, you have Reform—a boutique movement centered entirely around the ego of one man who has failed to get elected to Parliament more times than most people have changed their socks.

Farage’s insistence that he won't be a 'rescue' for Tory MPs is a stroke of marketing genius. He knows that the brand 'Conservative' is currently as toxic as a vat of industrial runoff. By rejecting the defectors, he preserves his 'outsider' status, despite having been a professional politician since the dawn of time. He wants the voters to believe that Reform is a radical alternative, a bold new frontier in British politics. In reality, it’s just the same old reactionary porridge, served in a new bowl with a louder spoon.

And let’s look at the MPs themselves. The idea of Robert Jenrick or any of his ilk seeking 'rescue' from Farage is the ultimate admission of failure. These are the people who told us they were the natural party of government. Now, they are scratching at the door of a man they spent years dismissing as a fringe lunatic. It’s pathetic. It’s the political equivalent of a former CEO begging for a job at a lemonade stand because they burned down the headquarters. They don't want to save the country; they want to save their seats, their pensions, and their sense of self-importance.

The left will undoubtedly watch this with a sense of performative glee, failing to realize that this civil war on the right is merely the precursor to a more efficient form of chaos. The right, meanwhile, will continue to argue over which particular brand of failure they prefer: the incompetent establishment or the loudmouthed insurgency. Neither side seems to notice that the electorate is exhausted by this pantomime.

Ultimately, Farage is right about one thing: he isn't a charity. He's a businessman. And in the business of politics, there is no profit in saving your competitors. Why would he help the Conservative Party survive when he can simply wait for it to die and then pick through the pockets of the corpse? He doesn't want to save the Tories; he wants to replace them with a version of the right that is even more focused on his own reflection. It is a bleak, cynical, and utterly predictable cycle of greed. The only real tragedy is that anyone is still listening to them. We are watching a circular firing squad where everyone is missing the target and the only victims are the people stuck in the middle. I’m tired of the noise, I’m tired of the grift, and I’m especially tired of Nigel Farage pretending that his refusal to help his own kind is a matter of principle rather than a matter of branding.