𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

Oh what a tangled web we wind, when we say: “Right! I’ve resigned!” Nigel Farage could never have guessed his impetuous piece of political drama would descend so speedily into farce. Our would-be PM versus Count Binface. Beyond absurd. I think he’d have been better fighting fire with fire, along the lines of: “Let he who is among you without sin cast the first stone…”

Am I alone in thinking the Reform leader’s pursuers should be stepping a tad more warily in the frenzied gavotte over donations to Farage and his party? Political donations are, by definition, fraught territory. Politics – especially democratic politics – is a bloody expensive business. A party without ready cash to fund its campaigns might as well pack up and go home. No free lunches in a liberal society. Constructing a consensus costs. A lot.

Maybe treasurers in Labour, Tory, Liberal or sundry established national independence parties would be comfortable with a deep trawl through their own books – who donated what, when, and crucially (though this is the bit that’s never actually written down), WHY?

Or… er… perhaps not, eh? Because why does anyone donate cash to any political group? Answer: to buy influence. Political donations are rarely, if ever, altruistic. They’re trade-offs. Why have the unions traditionally bankrolled Labour? (I won’t insult you by providing the answer). Why does big business fund the Conservative Party? (Ditto). Ergo; why would a cybercurrency/bitcoin billionaire funnel such sums to Farage? (Oh, please).

All this is why I struggle to get worked up by the “revelations” about Farage’s funding.

Did he sail close to the wind declaring his personal donations, and the reasons for the gifts (personal security, a reward for delivering Brexit, offerings in kind to allow him to function day-to-day as Reform’s leader, blah blah). Probably. They all do.

T’was ever thus. Plus ça change.

Yes, he keeps dodgy company (a mega-wealthy kid with a gambling fetish who’s done time for fraud in the US). So? You’d be surprised who’s slipped in and out of the back door to No.10 in the past. Downing Street isn’t exactly the Saints Way.

So can we all just grow up a bit? Politics is mostly about money. It’s been that way since before the Romans and the Greeks fought and bought their way to the top.

We’ll soon learn if Farage has broken today’s rules. If he has, never mind his resignation; he’d have been out on his ear and there’d be a by-election in Clacton anyway. But in the meantime can everyone please calm down and abjure the advice offered by the old rhyme:

“When in trouble, Or in doubt

“Run in circles, Scream and shout.”

Come on, England!

I’ve never had any time for jinxes, but if they’re your thing – especially with tomorrow’s Norway game just hours away – you’d better skip this piece. Because I honestly think that for the first time in 60 years, England might be in with a genuine chance of bringing the World Cup trophy home. Mexico on Monday changed everything.

For the first time I can remember since those heady days of ‘66 (and yes I DO remember those, with absolute clarity; I was 10 years old, old enough to understand that England were on a run of incredible form after an admittedly sluggish start) England look like they are playing as a team.

Everything has connected, at last, like a previously unreliable F1 car that finally rolls out with all its moving parts perfectly in synch: steering, suspension, drive-train… last Monday, England roared around the Azteca stadium with world-beating pace and control. Their 3-2 victory over Mexico was no lucky fluke. It was a feat of true sports engineering.

Tonight? Well, to quote Alex Ferguson: “Football, bloody hell.”

Football isn’t physics. True predictability is not part of the equation. But do England have the form now to go all the way? Unquestionably. That’s not jinxing anything. That’s just a statement of fact. So, come on, England!

The fable that explains Donald Trump

Donald Trump promised the planet a World Cup to admire; an exemplary display of how to run a major tournament. And to be fair, that’s what America delivered – until this week, when el presidento just couldn’t resist sticking his beak in and strong-arming FIFA into overturning a match ban on a US red-carded player.

I was talking to an American friend about this and asked if he was at all embarrassed by yet another display of gross misbehaviour by the leader of the free world.

“We’re well past all that now,” he sighed. “It’s like that fable of the scorpion and the frog.”

“The scorpion asks the frog to ferry him across the river on his back. The frog refuses. ‘You’ll sting me.’ The scorpion swears he won’t. ‘You’d die and I’d drown.’ So the frog agrees. Halfway across, the scorpion stings him. ‘Are you mad?’ gasps the frog. ‘Now we’ll both die!’ The scorpion shrugs. ‘I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. It’s in my nature.'”

Trump’s character rules his head.

That thousand-year-old fable fits him like a glove today.