The rules of the farm

clown.farm used to dump you on a random official party website and call it a day. That joke still works. It just had nowhere to live.

This is now a livestock register for public life: a daily harvest, a paddock of named specimens, and a gate that can still walk you off the premises to Conservatives, Labour, Reform, the Loonies, or whoever comes up.

It is satire. Entries are public figures and parties, written from the public record and the obvious joke. It is not journalism, not an endorsement, and not a membership scheme — even if some of the official paddocks would quite like it to be.

The register is a gazette, not a wire. When the cast changes, the farm is updated by hand. Seventh prime minister in ten years; the Cull Pen was sized correctly.

If you arrived here expecting a real farm, there is a photograph of one on the front gate. The livestock are elsewhere.