The political winds are undeniably with Reform UK right now, and that sense of momentum filled the air last night as over 120 people streamed into a grand Victorian building tucked behind Wandsworth Common and across the road from the equally imposing Wandsworth Prison. It was a suitably grand setting for what felt like a big political mission.
Our host for the evening was Mark Justin, the former Conservative councillor who defected to Reform after being unceremoniously deselected in an internal Tory leadership battle. Justin, who runs Le Gothique as a bar and French restaurant, had been sacrificed to make way for a former party leader – and he was clearly still smarting from the experience.
“The battle between parties is nothing compared to what goes on inside them,” he told us with the weary wisdom of someone who’d learned that lesson the hard way. But Justin was in good form – relaxed, clearly enjoying welcoming people to his establishment, genuinely excited about discussing political plans with his guests. At one point he made a telling slip, referring to the Conservatives as “us” before catching himself with a rueful smile. “Need to stop doing that,” he noted.
A setting made for stirring speeches
The setting was undeniably impressive. The soaring Victorian hall, with its painted ceiling depicting military heraldic crests, had been dressed with obligatory Union Jack bunting. But what made it particularly welcoming was the cosy, countryside-style bar tucked just off to the side, serving real ale to anyone who needed fortification before the speeches began.
Walking in, it was hard to know what to expect. Were these new Reform supporters going to be mini-Farages, all bluster and bombast? Disaffected Tories still nursing wounds from recent election defeats? People nervous about expressing their political sympathies, or aggressively proud of them?
The answer, as it turned out, was none of the above.
If there was a common thread running through conversations in the hall, it was this: for most people there, this was their first proper foray into active politics. These weren’t seasoned political operators or ideological true believers. They were people who had simply had enough.
Enough of what? The litany was familiar but freshly felt: a disastrous decade under May, Johnson, Truss and Sunak, followed by a Labour government that already seemed both ineffective and unconvincing. “Reeves got handed another bashing by the bond market today,” one attendee mentioned matter-of-factly, as if this was just the latest in an inevitable series of disappointments.
For some in the hall, Reform was definitely the answer they’d been looking for. For others, they were still curious, still testing the waters. But they were clearly drawn by the party’s blunt talk on immigration and housing, sensing that the country had veered onto the wrong path and relishing the speakers’ examples of what they saw as “woke Britain” gone mad.
Local focus, national ambitions
What became clear as the evening progressed was the laser focus on recruitment. This wasn’t just a rally to fire people up – it was a conversion operation, designed to transform curiosity into candidacy. Speaker after speaker hammered home the same message: don’t worry about the national issues, leave those to Nigel Farage. Focus on what you can achieve locally.
It was smart politics – acknowledging that local government is where political newcomers can actually make a difference, where the learning curve isn’t quite so steep, where real change happens in people’s daily lives.
It would be tempting to dismiss the room as simply people with prejudices – and there were certainly pockets of enthusiastic cheers for some of the speakers’ less palatable comments about Muslims and the need to “fight to protect Britain.” But that would miss something more significant happening here.
The reality was that these felt like people who had become politically dispossessed, who had watched the established parties fail them repeatedly, and Reform was offering them something genuinely new. Not necessarily better, but different. A chance to be heard, to matter, to do something other than complain from the sidelines.
The speakers were a mixed bag. Some were genuinely powerful, others waffled on far too long, telling meandering personal stories that were hard to follow over the hall’s challenging acoustics.
But it didn’t matter. This was a political rally for first-time attendees, and the individual performances were less important than the collective message: you can do something, you should do something, and we’ll help you do it.
The recruitment test
Whether the evening’s main objective – transforming people from mere party members (you were politely asked about membership at the door, though it wasn’t rigidly enforced) into actual council candidates – paid off will only be known to Mitch, the earnest young campaign manager who spent the evening working the room.
But watching the animated conversations during the interval, seeing people exchange contact details and ward information, witnessing the genuine enthusiasm, it would be very surprising if Reform didn’t come away from Le Gothique with at least half a dozen new willing recruits ready to put their names on ballot papers.
The Victorian hall that once honoured military veterans had hosted a different kind of campaign launch. The roof may not have been raised – this wasn’t that kind of electric political moment – but the spark was definitely kindled. Whether this particular political mission succeeds will be tested in 2026, but on this September evening, beneath the painted crests and Union Jack bunting, Reform UK had found an audience of political newcomers ready not just to listen, but to act.
