A demonstration of the difference between being in government and opposition hung from the ceiling at Reform UK’s annual party conference, which kicked off in Birmingham on September 5th. “Are you safe from the wealth tax?” asked a sign looming over delegates, alongside a grinning picture of Nigel Farage holding a gold coin. It was paid for by Direct Bullion (“Recommended by Nigel Farage”), a gold dealer whose relationship with the Reform leader has earned him about £280,000 ($380,000) in the past year.
About 110 miles away in Downing Street, Sir Keir Starmer was reshuffling his cabinet after Angela Rayner, the deputy prime minister, resigned for underpaying £40,000 in stamp duty—a form of wealth tax—on a second home. A hefty reshuffle, with half the cabinet changing jobs, was the result. In government, everything matters. In opposition, nothing does. If anything demonstrated this simple rule of politics, it was the collision of Reform’s hubristic conference and Labour’s last-minute reshuffle.
It took a week of headlines about Ms Rayner’s taxes for the truth to come out. Though Mr Farage was happy to advertise ways to lower tax bills in Birmingham, he was less keen to explain how much stamp duty he had paid on a home in Clacton that he claimed to own himself, but which was in fact bought by his partner. (“How dare you!” replied Mr Farage, with genuine affront, when a journalist asked if he wanted to clear things up.)
Still, sins in government are overlooked in opposition. Outright greed has been a facet of Labour ministers. Their lust for freebies marred their first few months in office. Labour ministers will do anything to stay in power, except forgo free seats to Sabrina Carpenter. Reform attracts little opprobrium for being greedy. And so a few yards from the Direct Bullion stand, Mr Farage began offering a signed Reform fc football shirt (rrp £39.99) and photo with the leader for £100 a pop.
Fresh arrivals in Sir Keir’s cabinet have already been sent begging for forgiveness from businesses upset by the first year of Labour’s government. Peter Kyle, the new business secretary, is off to America this week to remind investors not to overlook Britain. Out of office, Labour husbanded a pro-business reputation; in office, it shed it almost instantly, by raising taxes on employers.
Similar threats from Reform are, so far, happily ignored. In Birmingham a grinning Richard Tice, who would potentially be chancellor in any Reform government, warned those investing in renewable technologies not to—whether long-hated wind turbines or newly despised batteries. For any lobbyist in the audience who may have missed his message, he demonstrated what he would do with such contracts by ripping up a piece of paper.
Making friends is more straightforward in opposition, too. Yvette Cooper, the new foreign secretary, has the task of maintaining cordial relations with Donald Trump’s government. Mr Farage and his party took a shortcut. The Reform leader curried favour with the White House by inviting an anti-vax crank called Aseem Malhotra, a favourite of Robert F. Kennedy junior, Mr Trump’s health secretary, to address the conference. Dr Malhotra warned a gasping conference hall that covid-19 jabs might have given members of the royal family cancer. That guaranteed some bad headlines (even the most Reform-friendly newspaper becomes queasy at such a suggestion about the health of King Charles III). But it was worth it for more favours from Trumpland.
Labour has a new justice secretary in David Lammy, the former foreign secretary. Britain’s prisons are full. Backed-up courts mean people wait years for trials. Who can Reform turn to to fix it? How about, in the words of the compère, “Britain’s favourite political prisoner”. Lucy Connolly, a 42-year-old mother from Northampton, was sentenced to 31 months in jail for tweeting “Mass deportation now, set fire to all the fucking hotels full of the bastards” in response to the murder of three children in Southport. On Saturday she emerged on stage in a bright-pink suit, offering to help Reform after her ten-month visit to the slammer. “Wasn’t she utterly incredible?” asked Reform’s conference host.
Prisons may be a nightmare, but they are nothing compared with Britain’s ever-increasing welfare budget. Pat McFadden, formerly Sir Keir’s ministerial fixer, must overhaul it. Labour tried and failed to remove £5bn (0.2% of gdp) from disability benefits, triggering a revolt. Mr McFadden must make the savings without any screaming. Lee Anderson, Reform’s plain-talking welfare spokesman, has an easier gig. Rather than lay out how Reform would trim Britain’s welfare budget, Mr Anderson pledged to “reward the workers, not the shirkers”. The audience cheered.
Poetry versus prose
“Discipline!” shouted Mr Farage, closing the conference in the same spot on stage where the previous day Dame Andrea Jenkyns, Reform’s mayor for Greater Lincolnshire, had emerged in a sequinned trouser suit belting out a song she had written, entitled “Insomniac”. Local elections are due in 2026 across England—including London—and national elections are due in Scotland and Wales. Reform is set to do well.
Reform thinks it is heading for greater office and has begun to celebrate early. On Friday night front pages such as “Nightmare on Downing Street” began to land while, just outside Birmingham International Airport, two of the three still-living members of the Jackson 5 began to play “Blame It On The Boogie” to phone-toting middle-aged Reform members. If an election were held tomorrow, Reform would probably win a majority. That is a remarkable feat for a party which barely existed at the start of 2024. Hubris is already breeding inside Reform. One day Britons may notice the sort of people leading it. Whether that happens after the party enters office or before is the question. Nothing matters; until it does.
