Exclusive: The real reason Mark Francois says and does all those weird, awful things
He wants to bang a bell for Brexit because that’s what real men do. He never loses because that’s what real men do. He tears up letters live on TV because that’s what real men do. He has staring contests with authors of literary fiction because that’s what real men do. But is he real at all?
Let’s play a game. If I asked you who Mark Francois was two years ago, you’d have said a smooth-talking lothario from an eighties BBC Sunday night drama like Triangle, Howard’s Way or Eldorado.
If I’d asked you a year ago, you’d have said a back-up Formula One driver, West Brom’s goalkeeper or a pundit on Eurosport 2.
Six months ago, perhaps you’d have gone for a character in My Dad Wrote a Porno, a judge on Masterchef Australia or a Toast of London character.
However, cut to the present day and a whole new Mark Francois has appeared. And he is everywhere. No longer Ian Macshane’s rival in Lovejoy, Lewis Hamilton’s wingman or even a figment of Rocky Flintstone’s imagination — this whole new Mark Francois is something entirely new. He has appeared from nowhere (literally, nowhere — bear with me) and he doesn't want to go back.
And this is why Mark Francois says and does so much objectionable, offensive and odd stuff. He isn’t real.
If he didn't keep busting his bell about Brexit, drawing a fake knife across his throat or pretending to be Andy McNab, then he would instantly disappear. He is fictional. He is legend. He has to keep himself in your conscience or he will perish.
Francois lessons
There are many theories about where Mark came from and, for the first time ever, we will lay them out for you here but, first, let’s remind you about the menagerie of Mark’s misdeeds. Mark is the kind of man who uses the phrases like “Perfidious Albion” or “Spartan Phallanx” or “Trojan Banjax” without any shame, knowledge or access to Wikipedia.
He has spent the last month belting on about banging Big Ben like a horny Quasimodo. It’s like your toddler desperately trying to make The Wheels On The Bus our new national anthem, a recently deceased pug demanding he win Crufts or a club bowler setting up a petition to get the WBC World Welterweight Title belt because he got an answer right on Question of Sport. No one knows why, but, hey, you heard about it and it stuck in your brain.
Staring at your Self
He had a staring contest with Will Self on national television. No one knows why. It’s like playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with Martin Amis, having a thumb wrestle with Hilary Mantel or duelling at conkers with David Mitchell. But Mark knows that something this bizarre is going to make everyone take notice.
Porn Schlub
He intimated to BBC Radio Essex that he has large member. That’s a pretty niche category on Pornhub — tiny Tories with big old boys — but it’s not something you’re easily going to forget. In fact, it’s the kind of thing that would keep you up all night — and not in a good way.
Airbusted
He tore up a letter live on TV. The (former) CEO of Airbus Mark Enders wrote a statement that a no deal Brexit was potentially harmful to the UK. And Mark was not having it.
He referred to the “Teutonic arrogance” (because of course he did — Mark’s trusty xenophobic Thesaurus is never more than a few centimetres (sorry, Mark, inches) from his tiny hands) and then he trashed that treacherous missive.
Gammon, Gammon
He’s the angry little Prince of Brexit — Gamlet, if you will. And as befits a prince, he wants war. Any war, with anyone — but mainly Germans. He once said: “My father, Reginald Francois, was a D Day veteran. He never submitted to bullying by any German and neither will his son”. Of course he did. And of course his father was called Reginald and of course he was a D Day veteran.
Morning glory
He believes he’s some kind of little English William Wallace — let’s call him Brave Shart. A few months ago he said: “On the morning of the first of November, the sun will rise on a free country. I intend to stay up to see it happen.”
It’s almost as he doesn't know that he lives in a country where a figment of the collective imagination such as himself can become an MP in an election — that’s real freedom. Also, he doesn't seem to realise that he could get some sleep and then wake up around 5.30am to watch the sun rise.
Just one more go…
He’s all about war. But really, war, huh, what is it good for? Well, keeping the unreal in the public’s conscience. Mark Francois loves to act out his fight fantasies. Below, we see Mark in the cockpit of fighter jet — doesn’t he look happy — like a little boy in one of those coin-operated rides outside supermarkets, even after his mum’s stopped putting the coins in.
X spots the Mark
Finally, after years of research, we can reveal the truth about La Francois. The butterball of Brexit is a creation. A figment. A golem. A will o’ the wisp who needs the public’s acknowledgement to exist. The theories of how he first appeared in the universal consciousness are wild — here are just a few:
Blandyman x5
One of the main theories about Mark’s origins is known as the Spoons Hypothesis. The story goes that an unsuspecting EDL supporter once walked into a Wetherspoons toilet and said the words “Blandyman, Blandyman, Blandyman, Blandyman, Blandyman” into a mirror late on a Saturday night. Then came the sound of a bell. And then…nothing. The guy walked out without noticing the small besuited troll that had appeared behind him…and Brexit was about to get real.
Meanie genie
“You’ve never had a friend like me”. Well, of course you haven’t. Mark has never had or been a friend to anyone at all but, according to the Flass Institute of Genie Studies in Vienna, Francois is the only example of a reverse genie in history. He’ll give you three wishes and make sure none of them come true. Want a bell rung? Not happening. Want to be a proper soldier? Sorry, not this time. Want to fit into a suit? Can’t do it.
Weirder Science
Back in 1985, John Hughes made a film called Weird Science about two teens (the one from The Breakfast Club and the other one) who create their perfect woman (Kelly Le Brock — to be fair, pretty damn perfect). An innocent, if problematic premise, that sounds a lot more porny than it actually is.
Now there is a school of thought that two similar teens decided to create the exact opposite of Kelly LeBrock in the shape of Francois — a sort of Farrightkenstein. Think about true imperfection in human form and Francois is the first thing that springs to mind. Imagine if The Blob got a job as the South West regional manager of Wimpy. That’s the horror they created.
Fly Guy
One of the more outlandish takes, posited by Dexter Coanis from the podcast The Unexplained, is that Francois was an abomination created from a homemade version of the failed teleportation device in The Fly.
According to Coanis, an unnamed English scientist was trying to create the most ludicrous thing he could. In order to do so, he recreated The Fly machine from said Cronenberg masterpiece, dropped in 17 stones’ worth of uncooked cookie dough, a copy of The Victor comic March 1972 and the collected works of Jim Davidson and then pressed the button. And he was not disappointed when wee Marky popped out.
Bellraiser
And finally, we come to most accepted origin story for La Francois — he was birthed at the ERG Satanic Society (or SS as it’s better known). The story goes like this. Back in 2015, before anyone had ever heard of Francois, the grandees of the European Research Group were having their annual Satanic sacrifice, wine tasting and swingers’ evening.
Steve Baker, the head of the group, said that they needed “an earthy bloated pink man of the people to sell the message of Brexit”. Between Mogg, Baker and Duncan Smith, they conjured up some kind of gammony Hellboy (FOOTNOTE: I know Hellboy is red. Gammon is pink). Bellboy, as he became known, grew quickly. He was taken under the wing of the ERG who treated him like a son.
Mark Gino Francois became the ultimate distraction.
But why? Why is he?
The question of Mark’s purpose was, purportedly, answered by Steve Baker at the same meeting — “he’s here to makes us all look good, or at least coherent, or at least human-ish.” And it works, the fact is Mark makes anything bad look good and vice versa.
Self love
Will Self thrives on being a tool and owning a thesaurus. He’s a well-known humilityphobe, winner of GQ’s Smuggest Man of the Year every year since 1987 and someone who’s never afraid to use 10 really long words where silence would suffice. Yet, in just one TV appearance with Francois, he turned into a cross between Tom Hanks and Lassie.
Boeing Boing
CEOs are not sympathetic characters. They run huge organisations. They are often characterised as functioning psychopaths. They hire and fire at will. They are almost impossible to love. And if they try — they fail. Look at Elon Musk, Richard Branson or Mark Zuckerberg — they dance, they sing, they promise to make the internet safe — this just made them even more sinister.
But stick a letter from (former) CEO of Airbus Mark Enders in the hands of Francois and suddenly we’re all sympathising with the poor titan of industry and wondering why the mini Red Leicester man is trying to tear a letter on telly.
Does not suit you, sir.
Suits are both good and bad — a necessary evil for school or work, a must for James Bond. Francois somehow manages to make them look like straight jackets of impossibility.
He wears a suit the same way the aliens wear humans in Men in Black. His suits look about as natural on him as Leatherface’s skin mask. They’re baggy and tight in all the wrong places like a botched penis extension that also included your balls.
His suit looks like it’s trying desperately to escape but he’s holding it hostage. As if he has the suit’s wife and child and he’ll kill them if the suit runs. It’s akin to dressing a pug and his mate as bride and groom — the pugs hate it, they have no concept of marriage — all they know is they feel awkward and they can’t breathe (not unusual) — Francois is the groom. An uncomfortable breathless pug groom but with no bride.
Winning is losing
Winning is a good thing. Imagine winning anything — The World Cup, the National Lottery or a primary school tombola. There is no downside to winning. Well, somehow Mark manages to find it. His team won Brexit and yet rather than embracing it and moving forward with a true vision of international glory, he wants to ring a bell and flick the Vs at France. Woo, let the party begin.
If Mark had been involved in any of the following — WW2, the 1966 World Cup or Eurovision 81 — those triumphs would have been wiped from the history books years ago.
There’s a little bit of Mark in all of us
So, let’s try a little experiment, shall we. You’ve been reading about Francois for about 5 minutes now. Are you any wiser as to where he comes from or what he is? Sadly, that’s the twist, I’ve fallen into the trap of keeping Francois in your conscience.
And the reason I did? Well, Mark stole some of my back story. Mark had an English father and an Italian mother and so did I. It’s a small point but it’s meaningful.
He probably stole some of your backstory too. To appear more human. And once he steals a little of you, then you’re forever joined. Everyone is a horcrux to La Francois.
He started as legend. Now he is the flesh. Be afraid, be moderately afraid.
