You should have heard some of the other poster ideas, says Farage

UKIP leader Nigel Farage has rejected criticism of the party’s latest poster campaign, assuring people they have absolutely no idea.

Mr Farage revealed the party’s grassroots members had offered their own suggestions, adding: “Sweet. Jesus.”

He said: “One of them suggested me in a paramilitary uniform standing on top of a mountain, with the slogan, ‘Men of England, Touch My Destiny’.

“There was also the man snatching a baby from a pram, with the instruction that he look ‘very obviously semitic’.

“Then there was ‘the pile of skulls’.

“The person who sent that one in writes everything in capital letters and suggested we ‘POSITION IT OUTSIDE PRIMARY SCHOOLS’.

“Meanwhile, another member suggested a simple photo of a fully-erect black penis, but with no slogan, insisting the image ‘encapsulates absolutely everything we are trying to say’.”

He added: “These aren’t necessarily bad ideas, but they are bold and I just don’t think we’re quite at that stage. Perhaps next year. We’ll see.”

Mr Farage also revealed the party’s next set of posters will include a swarthy looking man in a dirty vest, a man with a Union Jack painted on his face, blowing his brains out, and an array of suspicious-looking tropical fruits with the slogan ‘Mangoes? Papayas? Whatever Next?’.


Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Essex engage notorious bounder

ESSEX County Cricket Club have hoodwinked their rivals by engaging the services of rakish bon vivant Jesse Ryder, Esquire.

The tea-rooms of Chigwell and Ongar are all a-flurry with the news that Mr. Ryder is to board a steamship for England from his home in the New World.

Upon landing in Tilbury, the debonair man-about-town will enrol in the players’ team of Essex to compete against the gentlemen of Surrey and Kent.

The Essex cricket club chairman said: “We await with baited breath the arrival of the illustrious Mr. Ryder.

“I gather that when not disporting himself on the village green, he is keen on boxing, hunting, and opium, pastimes which he will not want for in genteel Essex.”

“I am quite confident that he will prove a model of sportsmanly excellence and Christian virtue, so long as we keep him away from certain decadent bawdy-houses like Faces, the Candy Club and Sugar Hut.”

The young ladies of Essex profess themselves to be effervescent at the thought of Mr. Ryder, who has acquired a scandalous reputation in the saloons and gin-palaces of his native Wellington, strutting around their county like a cockerel.

Miss Emma Bradford of Uttlesford said: “I shall be calling on Mr. Ryder at the earliest opportunity, and he has already sent me a daguerreotype vouchsafing his amorous intentions.”

The lady then perused the image, cried “My Lord, ‘tis gargantuan,” and fainted clean away, still clutching a cockade fan in one hand and a bottle of WKD in the other.