Note: This article was written prior to the general election result on 5th July.

 

I write here, less than two weeks away from the British General Election in my flat in Camden, where the Monster Raving Loony Party has just announced that it is to stand for the first time. The hopeful Nick, the ‘Fabulous Flying Brick’ Delves, handed in his nomination forms at the Town Hall for the first time in the constituency. To any of our non-British readers, an explanation of this party may be due. 

 

It has been 40 years since the Official Monster Raving Loony Party fielded its first candidate. David Sutch, better known as 'Screaming Lord Sutch', was the trailblazing former DJ who stood for the newly formed party. Since then, the party has contested 76 by-elections and participated in every general election. Sutch, a charismatic and flamboyant musician, created the party to spotlight the absurdity and disconnect of traditional political parties and their policies. With a platform of outlandish policies (many of which have concerningly(?) been enacted today), the party aimed to mock the political establishment and expose its flaws. It was a satirical response to the widespread voter disillusionment and cynicism towards mainstream parties that failed to address real concerns. Sutch's eccentric image, often captured posing alongside sombre politicians in his top hat and leopard-skin jacket, became a symbol of the party’s mission to inject humour and critical reflection into British politics. 

 

The trend of treating elections as a platform for satire and spectacle has now extended beyond traditional political insiders, particularly in the digital age. Influential YouTubers have recognized the potential for both social commentary and brand enhancement. A prime example is Niko Omilana, a 26-year-old YouTuber with 7.5m followers, who has managed to be named as a candidate in 11 constituencies. His manifesto includes provocative policies such as "Politicians Aged 44 to be Sent Directly to the Front Lines" (a jab at 44 year old Rishi Sunak) and relocating the Tory HQ to Rwanda (another pointed dig).

 

Of course, almost anyone can run for Prime Minister with relative ease. All it takes is £500, ten signatures from voters in the chosen constituency, and, apparently, a flair for attention-grabbing antics. However, growing disillusionment is creating a climate where satirical and non-traditional candidates are gaining traction. This trend is problematic for two reasons: firstly, it can be challenging to distinguish joke candidates from serious ones-after all, Boris Johnson was a comedy panellist before becoming PM. More importantly, it underscores the public’s lack of trust in politicians and their frustration with the status quo.

 

Trust issues in British Politics

 

The point here is that the British political system appears to have devolved into somewhat of a farce. Numerous unedifying episodes of Tory sleaze have done little to help. From the government handing out public sector jobs to political cronies and awarding COVID contracts to VIPs, to unlawfully fast-tracking a building project for a Conservative donor, the scandals seem endless. Let's not forget how Boris Johnson financed his Downing Street flat refurbishment, his affair with Jennifer Arcuri, and the infamous Partygate scandal. Add in Matt Hancock's romantic escapades and Rishi Sunak’s wife's non-dom status, and you have a recipe for public mistrust that would leave anyone out of breath. Trust and confidence in UK politics and the electoral system are at an all-time low, according to Sir John Curtice. A staggering 45% of respondents in a British Social Attitudes survey stated they almost never trust any party's administration to prioritise the national interest over their own. Scepticism has morphed into outright cynicism, leading to disengagement from democracy and such behaviours that undermine its very foundations.

 

Setting aside the sleaze (of which Labour is not so innocent, by the way) I think there is a more fundamental reason for the lack of trust and interest in politics: the resurgence of centrism. This ideology, which should have been buried with its failures during the coalition years, has reemerged as a convenient shield. Both Starmer and Sunak wield it to avoid taking definitive stances, leaving the public increasingly disengaged.

 

This political middle ground, far from bridging divides, has become a no-man's-land where conviction goes to die. People are not interested because they can see through the façade; they can tell that politicians don’t genuinely believe in what they’re saying. Instead of offering bold visions or clear policies, centrism has become a refuge for politicians unwilling to commit to substantial change. This evasiveness only deepens public cynicism, as voters feel their concerns are met with empty platitudes rather than real solutions. It acts merely as a suppression of politics. 

 

This is exactly the cynical careerism people expect from elected representatives. Compare this, for example, to Nigel Farage. When he speaks, not only does he believe what he is saying and appears to be telling the truth, but voters believe him too. Fears are indeed growing, stoked by recent European election results, that increasing disillusionment could ignite such a wave of populism. Look at the rising appeal of Farage’s Reform UK. Farage has already branded the 2024 general election as the ‘immigration election’. His call to freeze ‘non-essential immigration’, blaming it for NHS waiting lists and the housing crisis, taps into voter anxieties that mainstream parties avoid addressing. Love him or loathe him, Farage has perfected the populist playbook, and it is clearly resonating. According to the Financial Times' latest poll tracker, Reform UK, a party only formed in 2018, is closing in on the Conservatives, narrowing the gap to less than six percentage points.

 

It is almost certain that Keir Starmer will emerge victorious on July 4th, leaving the Conservatives, the Loony Party, and Reform UK in his dust. Nonetheless, the spectre of political disillusionment will linger. Starmer must embark on the necessary journey of restoring public trust, or his term might be just a brief intermission in the long-running saga of political scepticism. The punchline of this so-called ‘joke’ then, might be closer than we think.