Farage absent as Reform collapses and Plaid snatches victory in Labour’s crumbling fortress

In the birthplace of legendary comedian Tommy Cooper, the punchline of the night was political. Plaid Cymru, not Reform UK, delivered the knockout joke, while Nigel Farage, the man who promised a Welsh revolution, had seemingly vanished down the M4 before the result was even read.

The Caerphilly by-election was billed as Reform UK’s moment to prove it could turn protest into power. Polls had shown a narrow lead for Reform, with Farage making three campaign trips to the constituency. Yet by the early hours, it was Plaid supporters laughing, not Reform loyalists.

At 2.10am, inside Caerphilly Leisure Centre, the declaration confirmed what many already suspected: Plaid Cymru had triumphed comfortably, overturning expectations with a majority of nearly 4,000. The party’s candidate, Lindsay Whittle, a familiar face who had lost in Caerphilly 13 times before, finally pulled off a victory that will echo through Welsh politics.

The mood contrast was striking. Whittle, clad in a crimson jacket and grinning ear to ear, basked in the celebrations. Llyr Powell, Reform UK’s candidate, looked forlorn and forgotten. With no Farage by his side and key Reform figures already departed, Powell arrived alone and cut a desolate figure. Even when offered the chance to speak after coming second, he declined — leaving an awkward silence where a concession speech should have been.

For Plaid Cymru, the night marked a resurgence. The party sees this as a stepping stone toward its wider goal — taking control of the Senedd in next year’s elections. For Reform, however, it was a bruising reality check. Despite heavy campaigning, national exposure, and Farage’s trademark swagger, the party’s momentum stalled spectacularly.

The absence of the Reform leader did not go unnoticed. Among Plaid activists, the running joke was that Farage was already “halfway down the M4” before the votes were counted — a line that spread around the hall faster than the result itself. The spectacle of Reform’s defeat in Tommy Cooper’s hometown had its own tragicomic twist: all set-up, no payoff, and a disappearing act worthy of the man himself.

Labour, meanwhile, suffered a humiliation of its own. Once unbeatable in Caerphilly — a constituency it had held for over a century — Labour’s vote collapsed “like Caerphilly cheese,” as one observer put it. The party’s slump sent shockwaves through its traditional Welsh heartlands, sparking panic among MPs worried about their seats in the next general election.

Labour’s deputy first minister in Wales, Huw Irranca-Davies, tried to pin the blame on Reform, accusing the party of weaponising immigration during the campaign. Yet the numbers told a harsher story: Labour’s core voters were bleeding away, not only to Reform on the right but also to Plaid on the left.

Political observers called the result a warning sign that Labour’s century-long dominance in the valleys could be ending. Caerphilly — once seen as an impregnable red fortress — had fallen to nationalist forces in an upset few saw coming.

For Reform UK, the night was a far cry from the swagger of polling day. Just a week earlier, one survey placed the party ahead of Plaid, 42% to 38%. Yet in politics, as in magic, appearances can deceive.

As dawn broke over Caerphilly, Whittle’s supporters were still celebrating. The Reform team had melted away. And the man who had promised to reshape British politics had disappeared without a trace.

Just like that.