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So here I am, eating breakfast in a hotel in Margate and an elderly man introduces himself.

"I'm Max," he says with confidence, "Dr Max Gammon, and the best thing about these conferences is the interesting people you meet."

Max is a retired doctor and a free-market advocate of some note. His wife sits down with him.

Max explains how he developed a rule of thumb - Gammon's Law - that states "in a bureaucratic system... increases in expenditure will be matched by a fall in production." He mentions that his ideas influenced Keith Joseph and Milton Friedman - the political fathers of Thatcherism. Heady names if you've read your political history.

Max represents a strain of UKIP that seldom gets mentioned

Despite all the stories about golliwog gaffes - that it was born from an ideological, intellectual libertarianism.

His main beef is with the EU - or as he calls it 'The EUSSR' - Max sees it as creeping totalitarianism and makes references to the pan-European rise of the fascists in the 1930s.

It's curious that the spectre of fascism is used equally by both UKIP's detractors and its supporters. That's the joy of bogeymen - they can be invoked by anyone who chooses to do so.

Entering the conference I'm struck by the number of pensioners

"The people's army", they call themselves. As a 40-something man, it's seldom I enter a room and feel like the youngster.

A woman of about 60, giggling like a schoolgirl, presents UKIP MP Mark Reckless with a scrap of paper to get his autograph, I'm reminded of the fans who still turn up and hang outside David Essex's stage door.

The speeches are generally dull; UKIP are on their best behaviour, "No more windmills," gets cheers, whilst a camera pans across the crowd to broadcast the sea of approval.

With the speeches it's hard to disagree with some of the issues raised

The NHS does have problems, fishing policies have depopulated the seas and forcing small businesses to register for VAT is a waste of everyone's time.

But what's the solution? Well, if you listen to UKIP, the answer is always leave the EU.

It's remarkable how many political philosophies boil down like this: single, simple answers. Libertarians think, no matter the problem the solution is the market will correct it. Lefties generally blame capitalism. And fundamentalist theists think most problems just need people to believe in God better.

Welcome to the UKIP reality tunnel

No matter what the problem is, the answer is to leave the EU, and this will open a magic land of freedom, where the money saved will pay to fix everyone's pet complaint with the country.

The speeches turn to Ed Miliband and his inability to eat a ham sandwich - the room is filled with boos - we're in a theatre that normally holds pantomimes and now we've found a villan.

A mention of John Prescott prompts an audience member to shout, "We've now got Wallace AND Gromit" to weak laughter.

But the biggest cheers are reserved for a comment about voting out David Cameron for failing to curb immigration - which, despite UKIP's careful phrasing that it's about saving money - does in all honestly make the audience sound like a bunch of racists.

Most speakers build to the phrase "Believe in Britain" - clearly the campaign slogan they are pushing. It's an empty phrase like Obama's 'Hope' which, like all good advertising slogans, means whatever you want to project onto it.

A UKIP supporter tells me off for typing - "The press need to be controlled. I'll be having a word," he says.

The woman sitting next to me says, "You weren't doing anything annoying - no wonder we get a bad press."

If you want to get a sense of what it's like to be here - read these three sentences followed by huge cheers:

"I want you to imagine that tomorrow the Channel Tunnel is blown up!"

"The old establishment parties and their willing lapdogs in the media!"

"We cannot even choose what vacuum cleaners we use!"

I found myself drifting off and accidentally clapped a speech out of reflex, then panicked that another journalist might have seen me - my secret UKIP-loving shame!

"I've been in them all you know, the EDL, the BNP, and now I'm here at UKIP"

A man grabs me whilst I get up for a coffee. He touches my arm with an intensity, His eyes are welling up. He tells me his name is Arthur Thompson "with a P".

"I've given up driving and I make my own egg and chips for dinner."

Mixed emotions fill me up - here's a lonely, old man reaching out but also he was a member of the BNP?

"BNP were horrible - thugs fighting - it wasn't for me." Ah that's a relief, he rejected the BNP.

Here's a man towards the end of his life and he just wants to talk. About the man he once killed in combat, the bombs that were dropped on his friends as a child, killing a whole family. About the naughtiness he got up to as a young man.

There's a certain 'social club for the lost' atmosphere about the place

UKIP has given the politically-unloved a home for their complaints. Arthur tells me about his popular Facebook page - "100s of followers".

"If only you and me were young again, the trouble we'd cause." he says to me, his youth gone and regret in his eyes, "I just want to leave something for the next generation. Do some good."

The finale of the day is going to be an appearance by Nigel - but first there's a 'sovereign draw', a raffle giving away three gold sovereigns.

Turns out this is UKIP's big idea to finance the local parties - hold raffles for gold sovereigns.

The raffle is followed by Patrick O'Flynn, who used to be political correspondent at The Express. He asks the people standing for Parliament to stand up - and about half the room does. Some need sticks.

If this many people are prospective MPs then who's going to stuff the envelopes?

He warns them about Twitter and not saying the wrong thing to the press. The words "listen guys, hang back on the racism" aren't said, but the implication is clear. No more gaffes.

And then the build-up for the Farage show starts in earnest. It's beginning to feel like a cult rally: Nigel this and Nigel that, the audience kept waiting, tantalised and teased about his appearence.

Then their pop idol arrives - the audience explodes in ecstasy, the media mob him with their cameras. Despite UKIP claiming to dislike the media, we are doing Nigel's work here; our cameras trained upon him, jostling for position and making him look like a star.

Farage speaks in short staccato bursts - leaving room for the applause. He says he's been staying away from the media, hoping that Cameron and Miliband will be boring the public together and he can come in like a breath of fresh air.

He repeatedly tells the audience that they need to offer a message of hope to the electorate and that's how you win campaigns.

Farage is bullish that he'll win the election - that the party will take several seats in Kent.

The crowd shout "UKIP! UKIP! UKIP! UKIP! UKIP!"

And at this moment I realise that although I came to mock UKIP there really is no point

They are impotent, and tragic. Deserving of pity rather than a dangerous political force that needs to be stopped.

The people who stood up in the room planning to become MPs, leading the peoples army to parliament are dreaming. They have no real party network to stuff envelopes and knock on doors.

Their unpleasant political fantasy is autumn leaves and will be blown away by the wind.