Let’s be diplomatic here. The aim of the game is this: ‘avoid Christmas Day drunken slanging match over politics at all costs’. This was a clever move. Technically, you have neither endorsed or condemned UKIP.
Your dad is satisfied for now. He thinks that you’ve agreed with him. You know you haven’t, of course. You know that the subtext was this: “As far as I’m concerned, Nigel Farage is a confirmed and card-carrying fuckface of a weasel. I’m just annoyed that the charisma of all the other political leaders is so low that some beaming twerp can turn up smoking a tab and twatting on about PC gone mad and everybody carries on like he’s Elvis Presley”
But now Dad thinks you’re onside, he’s warmed to the theme. He produces a copy of the Daily Mail and draws your attention to the headline on the front, making tutting noises.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” He says. Do you: