The moment Reform UK’s Richard Tice—the party’s former leader and a Brexit architect—publicly declared that his party’s candidate for Makerfield had been peddling “nationalistic pish,” the political oxygen in the room shifted. It wasn’t just another row over a candidate’s past remarks; it was a seismic crack in the facade of Reform’s carefully constructed brand as the “patriotic” alternative to the Tories. And like all good political earthquakes, the aftershocks are revealing far more than the initial tremor.
This isn’t just a story about one candidate’s gaffes—it’s about the cognitive dissonance at the heart of Reform UK’s identity. The party was built on the back of Brexit’s nationalist fervor, yet its candidates now find themselves tangled in contradictions that expose the fragility of their political project. The Makerfield by-election, triggered by the resignation of Labour’s Jake Berry, was meant to be a referendum on Reform’s ability to channel that energy into electoral success. Instead, it’s becoming a masterclass in how quickly a party’s messaging can unravel when its own candidates betray its core tenets.
The Candidate Who Wasn’t There
Dig into the digital footprint of Mark Fearnley, the Reform UK candidate for Makerfield, and you’ll find a man who, until recently, seemed to have a very selective memory. Unearthed posts from 2016—the year of the Brexit referendum—reveal a Leave voter who, according to The Times’ investigation, did not, in fact, vote to leave the European Union. The contradiction is glaring: here was a candidate running on a platform of Brexit nostalgia, yet his own voting record suggested he’d been on the other side of the debate. When pressed, Fearnley’s team initially dismissed the claims as “misinformation,” only for the posts to resurface with damning clarity.
The real kicker? Fearnley’s public stance on Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014. In a recent interview with The Telegraph, he argued that Moscow was “within their rights” to take the Ukrainian territory—a position that would have been politically toxic even for the most hardline Brexiter in 2016, let alone today. For a party that has spent years framing itself as the defender of British sovereignty, this was a masterstroke of self-sabotage.
“Reform UK’s problem isn’t just that its candidates are saying things they can’t defend—it’s that they’re saying things that contradict the party’s entire raison d’être.”
The backlash was inevitable. Even Nigel Farage, the godfather of modern Brexit populism, has grown increasingly critical of Reform’s direction, warning that its candidates are “making a mockery of the Brexit project.” The irony? Farage’s UKIP was the original vessel for Brexit’s nationalist tide, and now he’s watching as Reform—his political heir—drowns in its own contradictions.
The Brexit Ghost That Haunts Reform
Reform UK was never just a political party; it was a cultural movement. Its rise was fueled by the belief that Brexit had been stolen from its true believers—the working-class voters who felt abandoned by the establishment. Yet as Richard Tice’s “nationalistic pish” remark suggests, the party’s leadership is now grappling with a fundamental question: What happens when the movement’s core tenets are exposed as performative?
The answer lies in the data. Since the 2019 general election, when Brexit was still the dominant political issue, Reform’s polling numbers have fluctuated wildly. In 2023, the party peaked at 15% in some surveys, only to collapse to 8% by early 2024—a trend that YouGov’s polling attributes directly to candidate scandals. The Makerfield by-election, originally seen as a litmus test for Reform’s electoral viability, now risks becoming a self-inflicted own goal.
But the real damage isn’t just electoral. It’s ideological. Reform’s entire brand was built on the idea that it was the authentic voice of Brexit—unlike the Tories, who “betrayed” the cause. Yet when its candidates start retweeting sexist remarks or defending Russian aggression, they’re not just damaging their own reputations—they’re eroding the credibility of the entire Brexit project.
“The problem for Reform isn’t that they’re saying controversial things—it’s that they’re saying them without any coherent strategy. Brexit was supposed to be a unifying cause; now it’s just a free-for-all where anyone can claim the mantle, regardless of their actual beliefs.”
The Makerfield by-election is now a microcosm of Reform’s broader struggle. The party’s 2024 manifesto promises to “take back control” from the EU, yet its candidates are struggling to control their own narratives. In a post-Brexit Britain, where the economic and political fallout of leaving the EU is increasingly visible, Reform’s inability to articulate a clear vision is becoming its greatest liability.
The Sexism Scandal That Exposed the Rot
If the Crimea comments and the 2016 voting record were bad, the sexist remarks attributed to Fearnley are catastrophic. A series of resurfaced tweets from 2017 paint a picture of a man who believed women couldn’t referee football matches, drive, or give directions. The response from Reform’s leadership was tepid: Fearnley was suspended from campaigning, but not disowned. The message was clear—the party would tolerate almost anything to win votes.
This isn’t just a gender politics issue; it’s a credibility crisis. Reform UK was supposed to be the anti-establishment party, the voice of the forgotten. Yet when its candidates start making remarks that would make even the most hardline Tory blush, it raises a critical question: Who, exactly, is Reform UK fighting for?
The answer, according to internal party documents leaked to the BBC, is not the working class. Instead, Reform’s donor base is increasingly wealthy, older, and male—a demographic that aligns more with far-right European parties like Marine Le Pen’s National Rally than with the traditional Labour heartlands it claims to represent.
This demographic shift explains why Reform’s candidates can afford to make controversial remarks without fear of backlash from their core supporters. But it also explains why the party is struggling to expand beyond its niche. In Makerfield, a Labour-Lib Dem marginal with a 30% Remain majority, Fearnley’s remarks have made him electorally toxic. The by-election is now a referendum on whether Reform can shed its image as a party of old men with outdated views—or whether it’s doomed to remain a cult of personality built on nostalgia rather than substance.
The Wider War: How Reform’s Struggles Are Reshaping UK Politics
Reform UK’s internal chaos is playing out against a broader political realignment in the UK. The 2024 general election, called for January 4, 2025, is shaping up to be a three-way fight: Labour vs. Conservatives vs. Reform. But with Reform’s polling stagnant and its candidates self-sabotaging, the real question is whether the party can ever break through.
The Makerfield by-election is a stress test. If Reform wins, it will be seen as a validation of its strategy. If it loses—especially by a double-digit margin—it will be a death knell for the party’s ambitions. The stakes are higher than just one seat. This is about whether Brexit nationalism can survive in a post-referendum world where the economic pain of leaving the EU is undeniable.
Consider the economic data:
- Trade deficits have worsened since Brexit, with non-EU trade failing to compensate for lost EU markets.
- Business investment remains 15% below pre-referendum levels, according to the Bank of England.
- Net migration—a key Brexit selling point—has hit record highs, undermining the party’s anti-immigration rhetoric.
Against this backdrop, Reform’s message—that Brexit was a success—is increasingly hard to sell. The party’s leadership knows this. That’s why Nigel Farage has been publicly distancing himself from its more extreme elements, warning that the party is “losing its way.”
The Makerfield by-election is more than a local contest—it’s a proxy war over the soul of Brexit. Will the movement adapt, or will it be consumed by its own contradictions? The answer will determine whether Reform UK becomes a permanent fixture on the UK political landscape—or just another footnote in the Brexit tragedy.
The Takeaway: What This Means for Voters—and the Future of UK Politics
If you’re a Reform UK voter, the question isn’t just whether to support Fearnley in Makerfield. It’s whether to support a party that no longer believes in its own founding myth. The contradictions are too glaring to ignore: candidates who didn’t vote for Brexit, defend Russian aggression, and make sexist remarks—all while claiming to be the true heirs of the Leave movement.
For Labour, this is a golden opportunity. The party has spent years positioning itself as the rational alternative to Brexit chaos. If it can win Makerfield, it will send a message to Reform: Your time is up.
For the Conservatives, the fallout is a double-edged sword. On one hand, Reform’s scandals make the Tories look moderate by comparison. On the other, if Reform collapses entirely, the far-right vote could fragment further, benefiting UKIP’s remnants or even far-right splinter groups.
But the biggest loser, is British democracy. Reform UK was supposed to be the corrective to the establishment—yet its candidates are proving that populism without principles is just another form of political chaos. The Makerfield by-election isn’t just about one seat. It’s about whether the UK can move forward—or whether it’s doomed to relive the same old battles in an endless loop of nationalist pish.
So here’s the question for you, reader: When a political party’s candidates can’t even agree on their own history, what does that say about their future? And more importantly—what does it say about yours?
