We Made Tons of Weird Friends at the UKIP Party Conference


The UKIP press officer said he hadn’t heard of VICE, and he wanted us to leave. Our photographer Cian Oba-Smith was trying to check his bags into the cloakroom when the guy – a former journalist himself – popped up behind us and told the attendant to immediately return them. “These boys are going now,” he breathed. He didn’t like the way Cian had been taking photos of the UKIP gift shop and the raffle on the way in, but who could resist shooting a pewter bulldog with the Union Jack on his back and the EU flag between his teeth? Maybe the two of us looked pretty out of place at a conference that was, with a couple of exceptions, a sea of white hair and skin, but eventually we managed to talk him into letting us stay – provided we behaved.

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