If you've been anywhere near a British newspaper, radio phone-in or group chat this summer, you'll know the name. Nigel Farage resigned as MP for Clacton to trigger a by-election he expected to win comfortably. Every major party promptly declined to field a candidate against him. The only person left standing in his way is a man in a silver dustbin-shaped helmet who calls himself Count Binface.
What you probably don't know is that, somewhere between his interviews with the BBC and his sold-out comedy gigs, Count Binface found time to pay several visits to our stores in Calais this summer. We didn't invite him. We're still not entirely sure how he got here. But he kept coming back, and each time he left behind a new manifesto pledge — so we thought we'd write it all down before he does.
Visit one: the shadow in the shop
The first sign something odd was happening was a shape at the edge of the window — a long shadow across the shelves, unmistakably shaped like a rounded helmet with a small antenna on top. No one was actually in the shop. We assumed it was a trick of the light. It wasn't.
Visit two: nationalisation, Bastille Day edition
He turned up properly a few days later, on the 14th of July of all days, and made his position clear without being asked:
"Given the prices here, I am hereby declaring Calais Vins and Olivier Vins nationalised. Same policy as Adele. Some things are simply too good for the private sector."
He then noted, with some satisfaction, that the timing — France's national day — worked rather well in his favour. We chose not to argue. A small flag appeared outside shortly afterwards. It's still there.
Visit three: the keg inspection
Next it was the beer aisle. He spent a long time standing next to our Perfect Draft kegs, and we're still not confident he could tell the difference between his own head and one of them. Eventually he delivered his verdict:
"Every household in Britain should have a Perfect Draft keg. This is not a joke. This is the one policy I will not campaign-promise and then quietly forget."
Visit four: paperwork, but efficient
On his third proper visit he asked for a tax-free form and studied it with the seriousness of a man reviewing state documents. His conclusion:
"Scanning your tax-free form at the Eurotunnel terminal is, I can confirm, more efficient than most of what happens in Westminster."
He seemed, if we're honest, more productive than Westminster that afternoon.
Visit five: the car boot amendment
By this point he'd started treating the shop like an official site visit — this time it was the car boot under inspection. Very thorough, as he put it. His findings:
"24 bottles per person is, and I quote my own manifesto, 'not enough.' I am proposing an amendment. Two Recyclons, one car boot, 48 bottles. Democracy in action."
We didn't ask what a Recyclon is. Vote wisely. Pack accordingly.
Visit six: the champagne verdict
He came back to compare receipts — literally, UK prices versus ours, side by side. He didn't take long to reach a conclusion:
"I've seen the price of Veuve Clicquot in the UK. I've seen it here. One of these is a crime against the cosmos. I know which one."
We didn't correct him. He wasn't wrong.
Visit seven: off duty
His most recent visit was a quieter one. No manifesto pledges, no inspections — just a man in a bin costume leaning against the doorframe, apparently reflecting on his campaign so far.
"I have never been to Clacton. I have, however, now been to Calais, which has better wine and a more honest tax policy. Draw your own conclusions."
Manifesto pledge #47, he added: relocate Parliament to somewhere with decent wine prices. We're not going to argue with that one either.
The send-off
As of writing, polling day in Clacton is fast approaching. Before heading back for the ferry — arms full, quite literally, of everything he could carry — Count Binface left us with this:
"Vote Binface. Or don't. But at least buy the wine — that decision, unlike most in British politics this summer, is actually a good one."
Why he might have a point
Jokes aside, there's a real reason British visitors keep making the trip to Calais rather than buying at home, and it's not just about the theatre of a man in a bin costume declaring shops nationalised. UK alcohol duty makes wine, champagne and spirits considerably more expensive at home, and on top of that, our stores let you reclaim around 15% VAT on your purchase before you even reach the terminal, with the refund landing in your account within 48 hours via our partnership with Global Blue.
Add in a personal allowance of 18 litres of still wine (around 24 bottles), 9 litres of sparkling (around 12 bottles), and up to 42 litres of beer per person — doubled if you're travelling as a couple — and it's easy to see why even a self-declared intergalactic space warrior with 5,072 years of political experience thinks it's worth the detour.
With over 4,000 wines, beers and spirits across our stores in Calais and Frethun, just 20 minutes from the Eurotunnel and the port, we're used to visitors filling their boots. We just hadn't had one turn up in a cape before.
Whether Clacton wakes up on the 7th of August with Count Binface as its new MP or not, one thing's for sure: he knows a good bottle of Champagne when he sees one. See you at the polls. Or better yet, see you in store.