“I GET a kick out of him,” said Bob Choiniere, about Paul LePage, Maine’s outspoken Republican governor. “He’s just saying what we all think, right?” Mr Choiniere sat at the counter of Simones’ hot dog stand in Lewiston, a perennial stop for anyone running for office in Maine, no matter what their party. Mr LePage had just stopped by with Donald Trump junior, son of the Republican nominee, in town campaigning in the state’s second congressional district, where the presidential race is tightly contested. The governor has been a vocal supporter of the elder Mr Trump, who has promised the term-limited Mr LePage a place in his administration, if elected. The two men are both hot-headed, blunt and happily rub people the wrong way. Mr LePage sees the similarity, too: he has described himself as “Donald Trump before Donald Trump became popular”.

What happens when a Trumpian politician has to govern? Mr LePage triumphed, just, in a three-way race in 2010. Mere weeks after he took office, bumper stickers were spotted on the state’s roads noting that 61% of Mainers did not vote for their governor. Lance Dutson, a Republican political consultant remembers “it was very clear very early he was not a typical elected official.” He made strange choices for his cabinet. He bickered with state legislators, including his fellow Republicans. Mr LePage vowed to tell Barack Obama to “go to hell”. He took on silly battles, such as the removal of a federally funded mural depicting Rosie the Riveter, which he called anti-business. He refused to allow his senior officials to meet Democratic legislative leaders. He dismissed the dangers of consuming a chemical used in plastic, saying, “the worst case is that some women may have little beards”. He suggested the NAACP, a black civil-rights group, could “kiss my butt”.

His second term, which he won in another three-race way race, has been even more tumultuous. He nearly caused a constitutional crisis because of his incorrect use of the gubernatorial veto on bills which had already become law. He claimed that 90% of the drug dealers in Maine were black or Hispanic and from places like Brooklyn and the Bronx (in fact, 14% of drug dealers arrested in Maine were black, the rest were mostly white). He asserted that dealers with racially charged names like “D-Money, Smoothie, Shifty” were coming into Maine to sell drugs and to get white girls pregnant. He also ranted about immigrants. He feuded with Stephen King, a bestselling author from Maine; blocked a critic from getting a job in the private sector; and left a profane and threatening voicemail for a Democratic lawmaker. At one point over the summer impeachment seemed possible, as many lawmakers wondered about his ability to govern.

A portion of the electorate, mostly in the rural northern part of the state, likes his unscripted and abrasive style. They also like that he kept his promises to cut public spending and taxes. In some ways, the state is better managed under Mr LePage, says Mark Brewer of the University of Maine. He put money aside for the state’s depleted rainy day fund and has helped pay down state debt. Mr LePage’s supporters appreciate his distrust of the federal government, which fuels his refusal to expand Medicaid, the state-run, federally funded health-care programme for the poor. (Maine is one of the few states not to expand Medicaid under Obamacare.) His humble roots also resonate. He grew up poor, then lived on the streets to escape an abusive father. Even now, his family watches every penny: his wife recently took a waitressing job to help pay for a car. This makes him very different from Mr Trump, a billionaire who grew up in a well-off family. Mr LePage says he understands precarity, but does not want Maine to be a “welfare destination”.

Thousands of Mainers have been removed from public-assistance rolls on his orders. Mike Tipping, author of “As Maine Went: Governor Paul LePage and the Tea Party”, says people on the edge are suffering because of his policies. (Mr Le Page has threatened to arrest Mr Tipping for the crime of supporting an increase in the minimum wage.) A state auditor recently found his administration misused $13m in federal funds earmarked for impoverished children. Although unemployment is low, the state has fewer jobs than it did before the recession. Any growth is in the southern part of the state, which Mr LePage has declared “corrupt and exploitive”, sniffing at its more progressive leanings. Why, then, do so many still support LePage? “That’s the $64,000 question,” says Mr Dutson. “They blame the establishment for their lot, but do not see LePage as the establishment.”

Many Mainers, including many Republicans, are alarmed by Mr LePage’s behaviour. They worry that Maine, once home to moderate Republicans and independents, will continue on a coarser path, with abrasiveness and combativeness the norm. Maine’s politicians were previously celebrated as a civil bunch. George Mitchell, a former Senate majority leader, is proud to say he and Bob Dole, a former minority leader, never said a bad word about each other. Susan Collins, the state’s Republican senator, is respected for her moderate stances (and is a critic of Mr Trump). Margaret Chase Smith, a Republican senator for Maine from 1949 to 1973, once said, “I don’t want to see the Republican Party ride to politician victory on the Four Horsemen of calumny: fear, ignorance, bigotry and smear…surely we Republicans aren’t that desperate for victory.” She would not have liked 2016 much.