Lee Anderson - Man of the Algorithm

I've waxed lyrical about Farage enough times, but let's have a closer look at one of his henchmen.

Lee Anderson’s political career has been many things – but consistent, principled, or even coherent aren’t among them. He’s the bloke who started in Labour, leapt into the Tories, and now finds himself chin-jutting proudly in the Reform Party – a journey that looks less like an ideological pilgrimage and more like a grifter sniffing out the next seat of power.

Back in the day – and not that long ago – Anderson was a Labour councillor. But even then, he was hardly a bleeding-heart socialist. He staged a homeless man in a tent for a video stunt, for heaven’s sake. When Labour moved left under Corbyn, Anderson bolted. Not because he’d had some great Damascene conversion, but because the writing was on the wall in Ashfield, a Leave-voting, post-industrial seat crying out for a new narrative. Brexit was the battering ram and Anderson clambered aboard.

The Tories welcomed him with open arms in 2019. He won Ashfield by parroting the culture war claptrap they thought would keep the Red Wall blue. And once in, he didn’t waste time pretending to be anything other than a professional troll. Food bank users were lazy. Poor people could cook meals for 30p. He even gave the death penalty a wistful nod. Not because he believed any of it deeply – but because it got him column inches and shares on Facebook.

And then – in what must surely count as a nadir, even for him – he stood up in the House of Commons and, in a debate on border security, asked whether migrants crossing the Channel should be “deported immediately”… before adding that Jeremy Corbyn ought to go with them. There it was – the full reductio ad Lee. Policy by playground taunt. The chamber groaned. A minister was visibly shocked. But for Anderson, mission accomplished. Another clip to chuck on social media, another round of outraged headlines, another dopamine hit of visibility. This isn’t politics. It’s pantomime.

His brief stint as Tory Deputy Chairman was a panic move – Sunak chucking red meat to the hard right. But even the Conservatives, who’ve happily flirted with dog-whistle politics for years, eventually found Anderson too much. He refused to apologise for smearing Sadiq Khan with wild claims about Islamist sympathisers – so he jumped ship. Reform UK rolled out the red carpet.

And why not? Reform’s whole shtick is outrage without accountability. It’s not about governance or policy – it’s pure grievance theatre. A place where angry men with flags shout at immigrants, moan about net zero, and pretend the country’s gone to the dogs because a coffee shop sells soya milk. For Lee, it’s paradise.

But behind the bluster and the Union Flag bunting, what’s he actually about? Not working-class values – those he abandoned years ago. Not conservatism – too nuanced. And not reform – irony of ironies. He’s about Lee. Attention, power, the next soundbite. He’s a man who realised long ago that anger travels faster than facts, and if you say it loud enough and daft enough, someone will cheer.

Lee Anderson doesn’t represent a movement – he represents a vacuum. A hollowed-out political landscape where conviction is optional, and outrage is monetised. He’s not a man of the people – he’s a man of the algorithm.

And sadly, in 2025 Britain, that seems to be enough.