He really did have an honest to goodness crack at doing it the legitimate way. Genuinely. He made speeches. He got goons to hand out well meaning flyers. He even grappled with those pesky members of the press who insist on contorting every single phrase into ugly and hateful long winded speeches. But you get to a certain point in life when enough is enough and you can’t quite help yourself from snapping and doing something others might have cause to regret.
This mantra, or something along closely modelled along these lines, is probably currently running through the head of one Nigel Farage. He’d love to say that he blacked out or lost control or whatever and when he came to his senses there was a fresh corpse at his feet. However, it didn’t exactly pan out precisely like that. You know what it’s like, you see your political rival in the street and you simply can’t stop yourself from smashing their skull in with a rusty sledgehammer. Or hopefully you don’t.
Once you’ve made the realisation that you’ve accidentally or otherwise murdered a prominent public figure you need to decide how you’re going to deal with the situation. Obviously there’s the whole confess and hope that prison is nicer than convicts make out but that’s hardly an option for everyone. Farage went with the probably more natural reaction of trying very hard to cover up what he did in the hope that nobody would ever notice.
That’s why he’s out in the woods with a car with a distinctly soily boot. Try not to judge the guy too harshly, he’s getting some much needed exercise and is thereby doing some solid work to promote a healthy lifestyle. Maybe he’ll take up digging more often. In an allotment or something. With fewer dead bodies and more vegetables.