The Knights of Farage and the Enchanted Cave of Racism

The views included in the links below were voiced by various members (past and present) of the UKIP party. They do not reflect my own views. My opinion of UKIP is that they are a bunch of consummate wankers.

The Knights of Farage and the Enchanted Cave of Racism

Nigel Farage lived in a big white castle in the green and pleasant land of England. He was a powerful man who had many responsibilities in Europe, most of which he chose to ignore.

Aside from these minor differences that served to single him out from the hoi polloi, he was an ordinary bloke who you could easily imagine having a drink with down the pub. The walls of Nigel's castle were lined with portraits of him supping pint glasses of ale in public houses all across the United Kingdom of Great Britain.

The era that Nigel Farage lived in was a time of wonders:

In the north-west, a swollen, red-faced man called Nicholas had briefly risen to prominence by claiming to be the offspring of a griffin. Later it turned out that he was just an ordinary man. Every day he would find a child's birthday party where there was a face painter and ask to be made-up to look like a griffin. His crude deception gave rise to the expression “you sir are a painted griffin” to describe someone who pretends to be a griffin but who, in reality, is nothing of the sort.

Nigel Farage learned from the mistakes of the fraudulent man-griffin and wisely made no claims to be related to any kind of mythical chimera. Although, in a certain light, he resembled a tortoise who has joined a golf club, if he shared any common DNA with the tortoise species he chose not to reveal this to his subjects.

One day while returning from the pub Nigel Farage rediscovered a magical racist cave. The cave, which was spoken about in reverential tones by people whose hobby was racism, and also by professional racists, was thought to have been lost forever. The ancient writings inscribed on the walls had formed the basis of the scripts for many 1970s TV sitcoms. Some of these could no longer be broadcast on account of their stereotypical portrayal of minorities and women, which were considered by many to be deeply offensive and not terribly funny, although a lot of Nigel's friends couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

In the 1980s a gobby young knight called Ben Elton had bricked-up the entrance to the cave. Although at the time Sir Ben was feted for his actions, later a consensus formed that he too was a bit of a twat, albeit one of a different stripe.

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Nigel found that spending time in the cave sapped his energy, for the walls were made from a type of quartz that hated minorities and had the power to make people tired and prone to making racist remarks.

Nonetheless he invited others members of his court to share in his discovery.

One of the Knights of Farage was a man called Sir Godfrey – a philosopher whose time was spent pondering the nature of the universe. He had once penned a treatise on how the wantonness of a woman could be determined by looking behind the fridge in her kitchen and gauging the level of filth.

It is in this scholarly work that we find the origin of the ribald expression: “I bet she hasn't cleaned behind her fridge in years.”

Etched into the walls of the cave, Sir Godfrey discovered a map of Bongo Bongo Land: A mysterious kingdom whose income was derived mainly from donations sourced from the immense treasure vaults that lie beneath the Bank of England. This treasure, Sir Godfrey suspected, was being used to used to shore-up the Parisian property market and bolster the sales of name-brand sunglasses.

He voyaged far and wide in his search for Bongo Bongo Land, vowing to return the English gold to home soil, but found no trace of it.

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The ceiling of the enchanted cave was inhabited by a colony of xenophobic bats who did not regard themselves as prejudiced, but who disliked the idea of foreign species of bats moving into the adjacent caves. Their pungent guano carried a nauseating odour, however the bats had evolved a selective olfactory sense, rendering them unable to smell it. Nor did the vile stench seem to trouble Farage and his knights, who were either obvious to it, or secretly enjoyed it.

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Branching off from the racist cave was an annex that had been formed over many millions of years from a blend of homophobic granites.

Another knight called David Sylvester studied the runes that had been chiselled into the bigotted igneous rock and concluded that homosexuality was a "spiritual disease". He claimed the floods that had inundated parts of the British Isles one Christmas were a sign that god was displeased by the legalisation of gay marriage and had become so angry that he had drowned a few random people and raised the insurance premiums of others. This was despite him solemnly promising in the Old Testament that he wouldn't pull that kind of stunt again, and then signing off his covenant with a rainbow, which is the godly equivalent of dotting your 'i's with hearts or smiley faces.

When the gay men and women of Great Britain learned of their ability to cause floods and other natural disasters they became instantly drunk on power and resolved to all marry on the same day. The resulting biblical deluge marooned Sir David atop the protruding hump of a submerged hillock where he has remained ever since, fighting off all attempts to bring him to safety, and dismissing his would-be rescuers as grasping immigrants out to steal his land from under him.

Court Physician, Dr Julia Gasper, also ventured into the dim recesses of the homophobic annex where she uncovered in the strata strong links between homosexuality and paedophilia, “so much evidence that even a full-length book could hardly do justice to the subject.” Luckily for Dr Gasper the magic homophobic cave was much larger than a book and so there was plenty of space to write about such things.

Upon attempting to return to the surface Dr Gasper was struck by the way the light from her lantern reflected on the wet racist quartz, causing tiny rainbows to appear that superficially resembled the gay pride flag. Unable to pass through this screen of rainbows, she instead chose to retreat back into the gloom where she remains to this day.

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Veining the racist quartz and the homophobic granite were seams of misogynist pyrite, which had been used by the cave's early occupants to inlay crude drawings. It was one of these images – depicting a woman playing a game of chess with the personalisation of death, and losing after only a few moves – that led the Master of Coin, Sir Stuart Wheeler, to conclude that women were not very good at board and card games; certainly nowhere near as good as men.

Nigel Farage, who had also studied the pictograms, found that they gave him cause to wonder whether women could ever be the equal of men in a work environment.

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Nobody could quite say why they had chosen to be ruled by a man who harboured such dubious beliefs; who had so many strangely-opinionated friends; and who was the caretaker of a cavern that had formed from racist quartz, homophobic granite, that was seamed with misogynist pyrite and home to a population of xenophobic bats.

It was as if they had fallen prey to a magic spell and in hindsight the only way they could justify their actions was to proffer the opinion that Farage seemed like a normal person who you could imagine sharing a drink with in the pub, so he must be alright, even though, they conceded, some pubs are full of complete arseholes.

And so it was that because of his amiable lunchtime drinking, Farage and his knights were asked to organise a piss-up in a Belgian brewery – a task they refused to play any part in, as they didn't like Europe or foreigners all that much.