If I told you that extreme rightwing activists were using a googly-eyed character with a weird flapping mouth to try and build their support base, you'd probably tell me to stop being rude about Nigel Farage. Or applaud me for being rude about Nigel Farage. But for once I'm not slagging off Ukip's straight-talking bitter drinker. I'm referring to someone who, as far as we know, has never touched beer or cigarettes, which is probably a good thing as he seems to have rather an addictive personality. It's the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street, surely the world's most lovable personification of an eating disorder, whose image has been adopted by a group of German neo-Nazis in an attempt to recruit children.

Illustration by David Foldvari

"But how is this allowed?" you're probably asking. It isn't. Steffen Lange, who walked into a school playground in Brandenburg dressed as the Cookie Monster and started handing out neo-Nazi leaflets, has been arrested by the German police. I don't know whether the producers of Sesame Street are planning legal action but I imagine they'd have a case. Maybe they don't think there's much point since, as TV programmes go, Sesame Street is about as likely to be mistaken for being pro-Nazi as Dad's Army.

Then again, this wasn't an isolated incident: Cookie Monster-themed rightwing pamphlets were subsequently discovered at Lange's home, and the police have confirmed that the blue fluffy problem-eater's image is increasingly being abused by the region's far right to try and drum up support. A police spokesman speculated that it was an attempt to make neo-Nazism seem "a bit fun and a bit rebellious".

This is a fascinating strategy – and an insight into the mindset of the modern fascist. The Cookie Monster is anarchic, dynamic and madly driven by a very specific, but also totally random, aim: he wants cookies. He wants to charge around crazily smashing cookies into his mouth. He will never get enough cookies. It's unclear whether he understands this. Maybe he imagines some future stage of sated calm which he might achieve if, miraculously, he were to obtain all the cookies he desires. Or maybe he is wiser than that and knows it's all about the journey, his endless quest for biscuits.

These extremists' message is clear: that's what it's like to be a neo-Nazi. It's not mean, harsh and judgmental – not primarily, that's just a side effect. It's wild, active and devil-may-care. And violent – but it's not about whom the violence is directed at, that's not important. It's about the sensual joy of the violence itself. It's fun, dynamic, outdoorsy and liberated. Those who get hurt are collateral damage – hence the usefulness of a rationale by which hurting them is either good or irrelevant. As long as you see Jews and Gypsies as only so many cookies to be ground up in a cloth mouth, rather than as actual people, then it's all good clean fun.

You can't say this doesn't tap into a side of humanity that has always existed. Since the dawn of time, there have been plenty of us who just love running around and smashing things and people to bits. Think of the Vikings. They sailed around, pillaging, burning and looting, for centuries. They did it out of economic necessity; they did it out of greed; they did it out of hatred for other races and religions. But many of them must also have done it for fun. Some of those great warriors – skilled seamen and fearless soldiers – must have loved that life, loved running up to a coastal village and unleashing carnage.

Don't focus on our specific unpalatable views, Herr Lange and his colleagues are saying, focus on the thrill. There's something more primal in the appeal of extremist politics than any of its ostensible beliefs or policies – and the sensation is a lot like running around shouting "Cooookiiiiieeeessss!!!!!" For so long considered monsters by the political mainstream, these rightwingers are finally coming clean: "That's exactly what we are!" they're admitting. "Cuddly mindless monsters – and it feels amazing!"

But will they take these intriguing new recruitment tactics further? How else might fascists perk up their image now they're dispensing with all the tiresome Teutonic discipline and hate-sponsored pseudo-science and returning to their berserker roots?

Music

Can you imagine the Cookie Monster listening to Wagner, a nationalistic anthem or a marching band? Of course not – he's far too fidgety. The modern neo-Nazi wants a tune that's a lot more energetic and fun: Yakety Sax, Killing in the Name or the theme from Ski Sunday are all perfect upbeat accompaniments to any frenzy of hate.

Hashtags

Everyone knows that extremists say horrible things on social media, but a hashtag is a great way to put even the most vile remarks into a more upbeat context. Threats of violence in particular can be leavened if made cartoonish with postscripts such as #biff, #blam, #kersplat or #everydayracism.

Dress

The black shirt and the brown shirt, those staples of the fascists' glory days, have been lost to the jazz musician and the 1978 Coventry City away strip respectively (I used the internet in the preparation of this article). And anyway, they're far too staid for the wacky fascism of the Cookie Monster Nazis. So what about Hawaiian shirts? They're fun, they're crazy, they're slightly anarchic (within blandly uninventive parameters) and, like pineapple on a pizza, they provide the sort of meaningless nod to multiculturalism that helps less committed racists salve their lacerated consciences.

Dance

How better to separate actions from any sense of their meaning than with dance? The global success of "Gangnam Style" has shown the way. The extreme right needs to move on from the discredited fascist salute and develop some new gesture or move which can be aped by millions on YouTube. Something like a double thumbs-up while running on the spot, David Brent's dance from The Office or just a spot of rhythmic mooning would be ideal.

Baking

The choice of the Cookie Monster also suggests that, at a time when baking is so trendy, the far right has decided to reclaim the fascist oven from the shadow of Auschwitz. But, unlike their mascot, modern neo-Nazis don't just like cookies – they're into cakes, pies and puddings, but not soufflés, which are homosexual. An inspiring recipe book could be the Mein Kampf of the 21st Century, providing busy racists with the perfect high-carb treat to set them up for a night's angry shouting outside a mosque.