A funny thing happened on the way to Clacton

It was early in the summer and things were looking up. After years of being on a basic and wildly unremunerative monthly stipend as a party press officer, I was finally to get a contract after a slew of false promises. I was sitting comfortably on the war memorial in the churchyard of All Saints Oakham, with its elegant 14th-century spire casting a long shadow across the grass. ‘Yes, Gawain, we will sign it tomorrow’, Reform UK’s then chief executive told me, ‘it will run to the end of November’.

I cheered inwardly, happy to be secure until the General Election at least. I wandered off and poked my nose through the windows of nearby Oakham Castle, gazing self-satisfied at the eccentric collection of huge horseshoes nailed to the wall of the Norman great hall – each a tithe paid by peers of the realm since Edward IV in 1470.

Oakham is deepest England, profound perhaps. But now I was off to London and short-term financial security. The prospect of a long, entertaining and possibly hugely successful election campaign awaited.

Richard Tice had been steadying the Reform ship while Nigel Farage was on manoeuvres. But I was pretty certain Farage was going to come on board in time for the election – and who knows, I thought, post-I’m a Celebrity and GB News, that could be a game-changer. It would be my sixth General Election since I started working for the tribe and my fifth as head of press. The tribe being my internal code for people who had voted for parties led by Nigel Farage over the past 20 years. That includes UKIP, the Brexit Party and Reform UK.

As anybody involved in them knows, elections are chaotic, white-knuckle rollercoasters of panic, but they’re also unadulterated fun. Put it this way: you are doing something to try to make the world a better place, somebody is paying you to do it, and you are wired on adrenaline throughout the whole thing. Of course, best-laid plans and all that.

The next day I was in London and it was raining. But that didn’t stop PM Rishi Sunak from standing outside No10 to unexpectedly announce a General Election for 4 July. I sat and watched the rolling news while the prime minister was slowly soaked to the bone. ‘Things’, as Steve Bray’s comedy act played on Whitehall, ‘can only get wetter’.

How very true. The contract vanished in the summer rain, but the sudden appearance of an election on the horizon put that out of my mind. It was game on.

Farage, however, had been wrong-footed. He announced that though he would be campaigning, his long-hoped-for (or, depending on your perspective, feared) re-entry into electoral politics was not to happen. The cheering from Tory central office shook the chandeliers.

We launched Reform’s election campaign in the sweatbox cinema beneath the Institution of Engineering and Technology. It was packed to the rafters. Ben Habib stood up to introduce Tice, and oddly spent his minutes berating, though not naming, Farage for not having the gumption to stand. He then went on about his honourable but eccentric crusade to save the Union and his support for the Traditional Unionist Voice. It was not what anybody expected to be our key General Election messages – particularly given Farage had spent the best part of 20 years building relationships with the TUV’s rivals, the Democratic Unionist Party.

The whirlwind had started. The next morning we were with Farage in Dover, overlooking the disembarkation spot for the tens of thousands of illegal migrants a year. A follow-up press conference took place in Borough, in the Glaziers Hall, its green room groaning under beer and wine. Farage was meant to announce his return at this rapidly re-heated event, but that had been scotched. Still the cold meats on offer were all consumed – it would have been irresponsible to waste them.

Then the following day we were off with Farage to Skegness on the Lincolnshire coast, where Tice was trying to overhaul the Tories’ impossible 25,600 majority. To win here would mean a record-breaking swing. Farage was ebullient, in full campaign mode, but there was something missing.

As we walked down the main tourist thoroughfare we were chased by half-a-dozen pissed-up lads in dayglo pink. Security tensed but there was no issue. Out on a stag do, the lads were far from hostile. Instead, they followed us around for the next few hours, every now and again breaking into drunken acapella choruses of ‘There’s only one Nigel Farage, one Nigel Faraaaage’.

Something happened at the next stop on the seafront, when we were upstairs in the somewhat down-at-heel Skegness Ex-Service Club. Farage stopped and talked to people, to the old soldiers and their families, but it was apparent that though they were delighted he was there, they felt betrayed. He was fighting but not leading the fight. To them, he was not stepping up. They wanted Monty before El-Alemein.

The next day, it was off to the Rifle Volunteer in Skegby, Sutton-in-Ashfield, epicentre of the Lee Anderson insurgency. Here again, in quiet conversation with supporters and activists, it was the same story. ‘You are letting us down’, was the message.

Two days later, another press event at the Glaziers, but this time it was coffee only. Farage went on stage. It was happening. Farage was standing, but more than that, he was to take back the reins of Reform and he was doing so for the next five years.

The following day, at the end of Clacton pier, a huge crowd gathered. From our vantage point, despite my being nearly crushed by the sound system, we saw the world of British politics begin to turn on its head.

Just over four weeks later, Reform picked up over four million votes and Nigel Farage became an MP for the first time.

We do not know what will happen at the next General Election in 2029. But what we do know is that politics is changing, and Reform is set to play a major role.

Gawain Towler is a commentator, former director of communications for the Brexit Party and a consultant for Reform UK.