Diary – 28 March 2019

I’m famed for my mustard cords. Back in 2013, the press mockingly dubbed my campaign trips around the country in a purple London taxi the ‘Mustard Trouser Express’. Photographers everywhere still cry, ‘Nigel, when do we go to the pub?’ They want that ‘pint shot’ of course, and they always know they are on to something when they get to see a little flash of yellow-clad corrugated calf.

I’ve helped organise a March to Leave, which will arrive in Parliament Square this Friday, the day Britain was meant to leave the EU. The march — which travelled from Sunderland — has been the perfect opportunity to wear the trusty corduroys once again. Unfortunately, the snappers were in for a let-down when they arrived in the north-east. Along the heritage coast, it rained every step of the way, and I was swathed in the longest of South Shields’s finest ankle-length, waxed cotton jackets.