UK election candidates in costume: why they dress up to run

Every general election, Britain’s polling stations play host to a peculiar cast of characters. Alongside the suits and rosettes, voters encounter a fox, a giant gannet, an intergalactic space warrior and a man dressed as a literal dustbin. Far from fringe nonsense, these costumed candidates are part of a tradition that stretches back decades — and they’re taken more seriously than you might think.

Who are these candidates?

The most recognisable is Count Binface, a self-described intergalactic space lord who has stood against prime ministers including Boris Johnson and Rishi Sunak. He received 97 votes in Uxbridge in 2019 and improved that tally significantly in later contests. Then there’s Lord Buckethead, his predecessor in spirit if not in name, who first appeared on British ballots in 1987. The Fox — representing the Official Monster Raving Loony Party — has contested seats across southern England for years. And the gannet? That’s a candidate who once turned up in full seabird costume to highlight overfishing policy in a coastal constituency. Each outfit is different. But the intent is often the same.

Why do they do it?

Motivations vary considerably. Some candidates are genuine satirists, using the spectacle of an election to skewer politicians they believe deserve ridicule. Count Binface, whose real identity is kept private, has published detailed policy platforms — including a proposal to rename the Trident nuclear programme — that are deliberately absurd but sharply pointed. Others run to draw attention to single issues that mainstream parties won’t touch. Still others do it simply because they can, and because standing costs just £500 in the form of a deposit, which is returned if the candidate secures more than five percent of the vote.

That £500 barrier is low enough to be accessible, high enough to keep out pure chaos.

A longstanding British tradition

The Official Monster Raving Loony Party, founded by Screaming Lord Sutch in 1983, is the institutional anchor of this world. Sutch stood in 39 by-elections without ever winning a seat, but several of the party’s joke policies — including all-day pub opening hours and the lowering of the voting age — were later adopted into law. “These candidates play a genuinely democratic function,” said one electoral reform researcher. “They remind voters that the ballot paper is theirs to use as they see fit.”

What happens next?

With a general election having taken place in July 2024, costumed candidates again appeared across constituencies from Surrey to Scotland. Count Binface stood against Rishi Sunak in Richmond and Northallerton, cameras following his every move. He didn’t win. But he wasn’t really trying to win in the conventional sense. And that, perhaps, is the point. As long as British democracy permits a £500 entry fee and a box on a ballot paper, expect the fox, the gannet and the space warrior to keep showing up.