Spare a thought for Nigel Farage this Valentine’s Day

You might remember that in the months after the Brexit referendum, there was much talk of Britain “going global”. No longer constrained by the bureaucrats in Brussels, we would now be free to do as we please. It was good news. As one man said in 2016, not long after the vote, “increased global opportunities” awaited for him, for you, for Britain.

Six years on, I thought it might be nice to check in on that man to find out exactly what he is doing with these “increased global opportunities”. And… blimey. Nigel Farage, for it is indeed he, is standing in a darkened room under a squeamish neon blue sign that reads: “thrillz”. It could be Soho. It could be Television X (sister channels: 40+; Bangers; Dirty Talk). “Call now and I’ll loosen my tie. Terms and conditions apply.”

The truth, nauseatingly, is not as different as you might hope. For Nigel Farage, the man dubbed “Mr Brexit”, is now selling personalised Valentine’s Day messages for £74 a pop. The only question is: do you hate your partner as much as Farage must hate himself?

“Stuck for an idea?” he asks (et toi, Nigel?). “You can book me, Nigel Farage, here exclusively at thrillz and send that special message to your boyfriend, girlfriend, partner or whatever you call them.” Can I politely suggest you call them your ex?

It strikes me that an opportunity has been missed here. Would it not have been better for Farage, the man who got us out of Europe, to play the relationship axeman instead? “Feeling held back? Want to trade your goods more freely with other men, women or whatever you call them? You can book me, Nigel Farage, for a Valentine’s Day break up. Vexit means Vexit.”

Alas, the man wants to play Cupid. But at least you can try before you buy (not a privilege afforded to the UK in June 2016, it has to be said).

Yes, a few people have already paid 74 quid for a personalised Valentine’s Day message from Nigel Farage, and they are about as romantic as you’d expect. “Well, hello Emily, it’s Nigel Farage here, don’t switch off,” he says. “As lefty as you are, here’s a cold, hard dose of real life for you. I love you more than life itself, you truly are a blessing in left wing disguise [...] I can’t wait to spend the rest of my liberal, left-leaning life with you.”

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Poor Emily. You’re there in bed on Valentine’s Day morning, wondering if it will be flowers, chocolates, maybe tickets to the theatre, when your partner rolls over and shoves a phone in your face. “What is it? Can’t we just enjoy being in bed together, today of all days?” But they’re insistent. Just watch! “As lefty as you are, here’s a cold, hard dose of real life for you.” It’s genuinely very difficult to imagine a scenario in which this could go well. Hey, only 74 quid, though.

It really wasn’t supposed to be like this for Nigel Farage. In the space of a few short years, he has gone from being described as the most important politician of a generation, to promoting himself on a website called thrillz, smiling gamely as he always does but no doubt shrivelling a little more with every gravelly syllable.

“If only I’d been elected to parliament just one of the seven times I tried,” he must think to himself, as the thrillz autocue rolls on and on. “If only Theresa May had taken me up on my offer to help negotiate a trade deal with America. If only I wasn’t slumped in my front room all day reading Valentine’s Day messages off a screen to people I don’t know. If only…”

We’re going global – but that shouldn’t stop you sparing a thought this Valentine’s Day for Nigel Farage.