What an interesting adventure Paul Nuttall has had in Stoke. But like Mr Benn, Mr Nuttall must now return his tweed Nigel Farage suit to the proprietor of the fancy dress shop.

If that costumier is erstwhile Ukip money-man Arron Banks, my feeling is that Paul will not be allowed to borrow the suit again. You’ve soiled the suit, Paul. The election was won by a candidate who declared someone “should sod off back to where he came from”. You were the sod-ee. There’s off-brand, and then there’s … that.

However the dead-duck leadership wants to slice it, it is clear that Ukip is in existential crisis

On the other hand, there were many ambiguities at the time of writing this. Nuttall campaigned in website errors yet greeted news of his defeat delphically. As he put it: “I’m not going anywhere.” Correct on at least two fronts. First, no one had booked him a car from the count. Second, he’s a dead end.

If Paul wants to go for the hat-trick, I suppose he might conceivably also have meant he wasn’t going to resign after this shit-show. Yet even that feels like more borrowed garb, because what British politics really lacks for at the moment is party leaders that cling destructively on, Norma Desmond-style, imagining they’re huge – it’s just the electorate that got small.

If this was America, the wingnuts could blame the Ukip leader’s calamitous campaign in Stoke-on-Trent Central on the “deep state”. Indeed, he himself appeared to be gesturing towards dark forces, blaming a “coordinated, cruel and almost evil smear campaign” shortly, before crying on the podium at Ukip’s spring conference last weekend.

The only other amusing moment from the conference was Farage sweetly pre-knifing Paul, declaring: “I don’t think anybody for one moment can underplay just how important, just how fundamental, that byelection is for the futures of both the Labour party and indeed of Ukip too – it matters, and it matters hugely.”

Or as Paul put it, once the result was in, and it was clear it didn’t matter and it didn’t matter remotely: “I’m only 12 weeks in – give me a break … There is a lot more to come from us.” Mmmm. Any Ukip figures playing with a full deck will take that as a threat, after the few weeks Paul’s just gifted the rubberneckers.

Even by the party’s exacting standards of self-mutilation, a leader who has to take a morning off the last week of campaigning to give evidence to the police inquiry into the Hillsborough disaster may turn out to be a little rich for the blood. The good news for Paul is that the Ukip chairman certainly doesn’t appear to be playing with all 52 cards. Paul Oakden could be heard on the radio this morning saying it could take the party 23 years to win a seat in Westminster. “But if that’s how long it takes, then that’s what we will keep doing, because that’s what we’re here for.” Tell it to the purse strings, Paul.

For collectors of arcane political footnotes, Stoke-on-Trent Central offered an enticing haul. I remain entranced by the statement Paul’s father issued in reply to an inquiry about whether or not he was at Hillsborough the fateful day that led to 96 Liverpool fans being unlawfully killed. This began: “I am and always have been the father of Paul Nuttall, leader of the UK Independence Party.”

Other curiosities? The picture of Paul sitting on a camp bed in his otherwise empty house in Stoke, with no socks on. He later said he’d had to move out for his own security; a police investigation into allegations that he had not in fact moved in at the time of submitting his registration forms remains ongoing. Oh, and it was suggested that a network of pro-Russian Twitter accounts was seeking to influence the Stoke-on-Trent Central byelection against Nuttall. I’ve never admired Putin’s ambition more.

So where now? Should the Ukip leader decide to try to equal Farage’s record of seven failed campaigns for a Westminster seat, one senses that there will be “ongoing issues”, if I may euphemise a denouement that feels distinctly inevitable to even vaguely seasoned news watchers. Anything left that didn’t come out in this particular wash will certainly come out in the next one, or the one after that.

Even now, Paul is still blaming a press officer for inserting a line into his website claiming he lost “close personal friends” at Hillsborough. As should be clearly stated in all future discussions on the matter, the line was part of what appeared to be lengthy first-person quotes from Paul himself, which were subsequently widely disseminated elsewhere, including the BBC, without query. Until this month.

For the financiers, running Paul in a seat will now be the political equivalent of staging Springtime for Hitler on Broadway – only without the surprise hit Messrs Bialystock and Bloom were landed with.

Why Stoke is make or break time for Ukip | Alexandra Phillips Read more

However the dead-duck leadership wants to slice it, it is clear that Ukip is in existential crisis. They are losing in Brexit heartlands, both in this Westminster byelection and in the Sunderland council byelections last month. They are now a party in the preposterous situation of almost openly willing the government to backtrack on Brexit in order for them to continue to exist.

Even Farage is still at it, popping up thrice weekly to say he might essay yet another deeply called for comeback. “If this falls to bits, anything could happen, let’s see.” Would he like to be prime minister? “If this political class let us down on Brexit, then anything can happen.” As someone who has booked tickets for his next three resignation speeches, I’m grateful for the copy – but what’s in it for anyone other than Nigel and the journalists is unclear.

Today, Ukip is not so much a party as a psychological condition. In one sense it always was, being an outfit that leeched countless millions of expenses from the European parliament while raging against the EU as a drain on ordinary British pockets. It cannot exist without that which it says it wants to destroy.

In Stoke the party resembled a parasite whose host organism had carked it. You can feed off the remains – and indeed the Remains – for a bit, but it’s not a long-term option. For the second time since midnight on Thursday, it’s time to ask: where is Paul Nuttall’s taxi?