tom geens

I’ve held back from commenting on the revelations about Nigel Farage’s past racism. Not because the story shocked me. For many in this country, it merely confirms what we’ve suspected for years. But some will be hearing these allegations for the first time, and it’s to you that I want to speak. Most of us have said or done things when we were young that we look back on with regret. That’s part of growing up. We make mistakes, we cringe at our former selves, we learn, we change. Some of those early attitudes fall away. Others become the foundations of who we later become. What’s now emerging about Nigel Farage isn’t a single stupid comment or one heated moment. Former classmates are describing a pattern of behaviour. Not just a bully. A racist bully of the ugliest kind. That doesn’t automatically mean he holds every one of those views today. But look at his politics. Look at his rhetoric. Look at the company he keeps and the division he trades in. It paints a picture of a man whose worldview didn’t appear to grow out of those foundations, but grew from them. So what does that mean now? If you already oppose Farage, this only hardens your resolve. If you adore him, nothing I say will shift you. But there’s a group of people I do want to reach: those considering voting Reform. I’m not going to patronise you. I understand why many are thinking about it. If you’ve watched your pay stall, your bills rise, your community decline, and your politicians shrug for years, you might well think: what have I got to lose? Why not give the system a kick? Why not try something different? And you may feel the country has taken a wrong turn. That we’ve lost something precious and need to put it right. Those instincts aren’t wicked. They aren’t racist. They come from frustration, disappointment, and a desire for dignity and control in your own life. But here’s the truth that cannot be dodged. Most people in this country are good, decent, fair-minded. They don’t want to see hate imported into the heart of their politics. They don’t want their children growing up in a country defined by fear and division. So ask yourself this, quietly and honestly: is Nigel Farage a changed man? Has he shown any sign that he regrets the person he was? Or has he built a career by sharpening those same instincts into a political weapon? Because if he hasn’t changed, then every vote for Farage isn’t a protest. It’s permission. It hands real power to a man whose teenage cruelty seems less like a phase and more like a blueprint. This country is far from perfect, but it is worth fighting for. And once a politics of hatred takes root at the top, a country doesn’t easily come back from it. You know this in your gut. We all do. Nigel Farage is not fit to lead this country. A vote for him, or for those who still cheer the views he held as a teenager, would stain the country we love with something we may never fully wash away. And to the Reform diehards who will now pile into the comments with abuse: crack on. You’ll only prove the point.