There's something about Nigel: Introducing Nigel Farage, the Ukip leader who's charming the ladies...



It was an apparent late surge by female voters that led to Ukip’s electoral success last month Melissa Kite checks out party leader Nigel Farage’s girl appeal

'People see me as approachable. Perhaps they don't see me as a politician. That's the point'

Going to the pub with Nigel Farage is very therapeutic. Within seconds of our drinks arriving, I realise I am telling him my troubles as we sit beneath an umbrella at a table in the street.



He is nodding sympathetically, sipping from a pint of beer and puffing on his trademark cigarette. As I offload my frustrations, he says all the right things. Before long, we are setting the world to rights and I catch myself thinking that I must tell Nigel about that problem I had with my local police because…

Because what, exactly?





‘Men can never work out why women find some men attractive’

Farage has that indefinable quality that makes you believe he is interested in your problems and even that he might be able to put them right. But to be realistic, he can’t possibly put anything right, can he?



He’s the leader of a fringe party that, on the face of it, hasn’t a hope in hell of getting into power. Yet with the UK Independence Party hitting 19 per cent in the council election polls last month, people have started to sit up and take notice.



And they are now looking at its chirpy leader as someone who cannot be as easily dismissed as David Cameron would like.



Most surprising of all, given that Ukip was once a nerdish, male-dominated party, is the fact that Farage, 49, is becoming a hit with women. Indeed, it was apparently a late surge in the female vote that led to Ukip’s stellar performance in last month’s council elections.



A few weeks ago, I asked my circle of friends how they voted in the local elections and one glamorous, wealthy divorcee revealed she had voted Ukip, saying: ‘Nigel Farage is a straight talker. He isn’t surrounded by spin doctors. He’s a real man.’

‘There is a country out there desperate for success. You see it in the Olympics, in football. People want to belong, to be proud'

Perhaps it’s the pint, the cigarette, the reassuringly macho banter. Perhaps women are tired of the touchy-feely, organic, free-range posturing of Cameron and his Notting Hill metrosexuals.



After all, Farage wouldn’t make a song and dance of telling voters he went home early for bath time.



This is the man who emerged with minor injuries from a serious plane crash while campaigning in the 2010 general election.



He wouldn’t tell us how he loves to cook lasagne, naming his favourite celebrity chef’s recipe.



But is he really becoming a sex symbol? Farage rocks with laughter. ‘Oh, I don’t…ha ha… Oh, no, you are not going to get me to answer a question like that. I very much doubt it anyway. I’m English, for God’s sake.’





‘I can cook. I’m good at fish I’ve caught. It’s the hunter-gatherer thing’

And he goes on chuckling, but looking ever so slightly flattered. When he eventually calms down, he says: ‘Look, people see me as approachable. Perhaps they don’t see me as a politician. Perhaps that’s the point.’



But I have obviously planted an idea because Farage develops the sex symbol theme as he sips his pint.



‘Isn’t it funny? It’s the perception thing: how women see men and how men think women see men. Men can never work out why some women find some men interesting or attractive. “Why is he so popular with women?” they say.’



He must be pleased that he is appealing to female voters? ‘I would be a total liar if I said that sometimes, people coming up to me and being nice to me is not a good thing.’



Plenty of people are not nice to him, you see. Protesters in Edinburgh called him a ‘racist scumbag’, and as we left the MEP’s office building to go to the pub just now, an elderly lady tore a strip off him as he lit a cigarette.

‘I’m an accidental politician. I had no plan to do this. It wasn’t my boyhood dream’

‘I would prefer it if you didn’t smoke outside my window,’ she snapped, before going up to the

sixth floor, where her window was well out of reach of his tobacco vapours.



But Farage is still pondering the sex symbol comment. ‘I’m going to go all shy now,’ he says.



‘Seriously, maybe the others are a bit too polished.’ I put it to him that the others are indeed polished, and that politicians such as Cameron and Clegg make all sorts of slick claims about being good with children and cooking Sunday lunch.



He says: ‘I’m really good with nobody’s children. But I can cook, actually. I’m good at fish.’

What fish? ‘Fish that I’ve caught.’ Macho cooking, you see. His press secretary Annabelle reveals he is a dab hand at gutting sea bass. ‘He’s useless at cooking artichokes, though,’ she adds.



‘I’ve had four children. [As a father] I have tried. But I’m not very good’

But who needs artichokes when you’re a man who can gut bass? Farage, a keen angler, has even written columns for Total Sea Fishing. He enjoys shooting as well. ‘It’s the hunter-gatherer thing,’ he explains, rather extraneously.



The effect of this old-fashioned chauvinism on the numbers is impressive. Female support for Ukip is now only fractionally behind male votes and the party has burgeoning numbers of female councillors, some of whom arrive at the pub later for a drink with Nigel and are really quite chic.



By contrast, while Cameron brags about doing the school run, his female vote continues to plummet.



One might postulate that women, who have keen antennae for authenticity, warm to Farage because he does not put a gloss on things. He is prepared to manfully put his foot in his mouth if the moment requires it. He described the first president of the European Council, Herman Van Rompuy, as having ‘the charisma of a damp rag’ and called Belgium ‘pretty much a non-country’.

King Nigel holds court in the pub with, from left, Lincolnshire Ukip councillor Victoria Ayling and party members Jo Bateman, Alexandra Swann and Sanya-Jeet Thandi

Has he consciously cultivated this maverick streak? ‘That’s just the way I am,’ he says, before adding wistfully, ‘I’m an accidental politician.’ For a moment, he looks reflective, almost troubled. ‘I had no plan to do this. It wasn’t my boyhood dream.’ He is staring into the middle distance as he slowly exhales smoke. What was his dream?



‘I had different ambitions and aspirations. I thought in my early teens I would join the army. Then Thatcher got elected. The birth of the yuppie. I thought, “I’d like to be one of those. I want to make lots of money.”’



That’s Nigel, you see. Ask him what he wanted to be and he’ll tell you that he wanted to make lots of money. Cameron would never admit that. He would come out with some guff about how he wanted to serve his country.



Farage says: ‘In my late 20s I didn’t change, the world changed. Maastricht [the 1991 agreement that gave birth to the EU], the ERM [European exchange rate mechanism, a precursor to financial union that went disastrously wrong for Britain in 1992]. These things motivated me to get involved.’



But what else drives him, personally? I ask about his wife and four children, who – unlike other party leaders’ wives and families – are never trotted out for the cameras. I offer him a chance to say what a devoted father he is, but he turns it down.



A Ukip rosette



‘If I was honest with you, I’m not there enough because of the demands of this job. I have sort of failed on that score really.’ Failed? Even by Farage’s standards of straight-talking, a politician using the f-word is astounding. ‘I’ve had four children. I wouldn’t say when they were little that I was particularly brilliant. I try. I have tried. But I’m not very good.’



His German-born wife Kirsten is an elusive figure. They met when he was working in the City and she was a bond dealer. Now she’s works as his PA. She is obviously devoted, yet he refuses to put her on display.



‘I haven’t mentioned my wife because you can’t have it both ways. If you make your family public property… I have tried to make sure there isn’t a single photo of my children.’



It occurs to me that his childhood might have been less than idyllic for him to become so fiercely determined to protect his own kids.



It has been written that his stockbroker father was an alcoholic who left the family home when Nigel was five years old and that he had to help look after his toddler brother Andrew. ‘My childhood wasn’t idyllic, wasn’t perfect.



I had divorced parents. These things are never good. I want my own children to have as much stability as possible and the chance to get on with what they want to do.’



He is matter-of-fact. But the sense of unresolved unhappiness hangs in the air.



Richard North, a fellow Eurosceptic, has said of Farage: ‘He cannot work with people in a long-term relationship. He uses people, and he uses them up.’



One suspects that whatever unhappiness drives this trait also accounts for why there is something childlike about Farage.



When he talks about his hobbies his face lights up.



‘I love the big outdoors. I enjoy watching cricket. Going to Lord’s for the Ashes. I won’t sleep the night before.’



When he outlines his vision for Britain it is tinged with the same excitement and idealism:



‘There is a country out there desperate for success. You see it in the Olympics, in football. People want to belong, to be proud. And we cannot have any sense of pride or self-respect if we are not a self-governing nation. Our entire political class has given up on this country. It’s the concept of managed decline: “Let’s go down the tubes with dignity. We are no bloody good, let’s admit it.” Well, I think we are an extraordinary country. Of course we can turn it around.’

I can almost hear Elgar in the background. And no, I haven’t been drinking pint to pint with Farage. I’m on the mineral water. But does it have to be hokum? Can’t we believe in Farage’s simple, patriotic vision? He makes it sound so straightforward: ‘You can’t pussyfoot around.



You have got to get the hell out of the EU political union. You have got to have an amicable divorce and replace it with a trade deal.



‘But we have got these spineless, pathetic, weak politicians and this weak prime minister who says, “Sorry, it makes me sick to my stomach, but there is nothing I can do about it.”’



Farage, a former Tory who resigned from the party during John Major’s leadership, clearly does not have much time for David Cameron.



The most damaging insult he levels at the prime minister is an aside that comes out casually as he poses for photographs. As he reaches into his pocket for his Rothmans, he reveals something Cameron used to do when the two were between takes on TV debate shows: ‘He was always nicking my fags. He never had his own.’

