Nigel Farage was born to be a TikTok star. He joined the platform in March 2022, announcing “it’s got to be done, it’s where it’s at” in a video that has been watched more than 600,000 times. He is still one of the first politicians to bother taking the platform seriously, and it is paying him vast dividends. The Guardian reported last week that Farage is outperforming all other UK parties and candidates on TikTok in terms of engagement and average views, according to data from 22 May to 17 June. Farage has been prolific in his output since his election candidacy was announced. He posted several times a day for the first two weeks of his campaign, flooding the algorithm with short, characterful videos that resonate powerfully with his fanbase. The recipe to his success is clear: he’s willing to be opinionated, comical and – most compellingly in British politics – himself. You don’t need to be silly on TikTok, but it is where buffo politicians can excel. Much of the ire surrounding political campaigns this summer has focused on the humourlessness of Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer. As the PM and the likely PM elect, they can’t really afford to take things lightly, but combined with their robot soundbites it has meant that they come across looking as if they have the emotional spectrums of kitchen cabinets. It’s in this ecosystem where Farage’s TikToks – particularly his comic ones – are racking up the views. One in 10 British adults use TikTok as a source of news – putting it on par with the Guardian in 2023 – but many, many more will use it as a source of entertainment. Farage has scored hundreds of thousands of views for saying his milkshake brings all the people to the rally, for sharing his Brexit club classics playlist on Spotify and for having fun shooting some clay pigeons. His big 2.6m hitter commenting on some “lovely melons” was reminiscent of Giorgia Meloni’s bizarre melon video, which got 11.3m views at the time. Europe’s populist right understand the value of comedy but less extreme politicians are completely inarticulate about it. Not only does it humanise them, it games the algorithm to promote content that has absolutely nothing to do with their political agendas. The high view counts of the comedy material ensures that the videos about their political agendas are more likely to appear on users’ For You pages, even if they’re less effective. And in terms of crafting the videos, Farage is an astute content creator. You can tell if someone benefits from making shock-jock material if they focus on pushing out shorter content – plenty of his videos are barely even six seconds long. But Farage doesn’t need long content. Making longer TikToks normally demands explanations and storytelling craft to maintain attention. He knows that saying something short and shocking is enough to get support and shares from those he targets. This is a business of unforgiving video retention rates, with a video’s success dictated by how many people not only stick around to watch the first five seconds, but who go on to watch right until the end. TikTok audiences will love to watch him and hate to watch him, and the shorter the video, the more likely it is it will loop, guzzling in rewatch time. His content will use all of this nourishment to prosper, and be boosted on TikTok’s powerful recommendation algorithm. A look through Farage’s posting history shows he hasn’t been afraid to experiment. There are videos made to look like fan edits, explainer formats and behind-the-scenes footage of the campaign trail, showing an agility and appetite for throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. He has a 23-year-old rightwing creator now assisting him, and he will also be emboldened by cross-pollination with Reform UK’s active TikTok following, too. Mainstream media outlets have done some worthy questioning into whether some of Reform UK’s online support may come from bots, or automated fake accounts. This is a question that needs an answer, but even raising it may result in real supporters feeling alienated, and supporting the content even more fervently. Agencies exist to investigate dark PR such as this; if Reform UK doesn’t pay for such an investigation, one of its opponents soon will. The overwhelming majority of British politicians do not have even 1,000 followers on TikTok. Farage, an anti-mainstream media figure who is constantly protesting about his lack of platforming, always stood the most to gain from an app such as TikTok: it’s a place you can build a platform with nothing other than a personality. When governments were busy toying with TikTok bans and kicking the app around like a geopolitical hot potato, the likes of Farage were already in the dressing room getting prepared. Now, in the throes of an election campaign in which political parties took their time getting on board with social media, other candidates are hurriedly trying to make TikTok content from square one. I imagine Farage doesn’t care; he is already basking in the spotlight. Sophia Smith Galer is a journalist, content creator and the author of Losing It