Nigel Farage isn't ready to be Prime Minister. And I know that not because of the complaints of his enemies, but what I hear from his closest allies.

'Nigel recognises we're not in a position to run the country yet', one told me recently.

'We've got a lot to do to get the party into shape, build a proper campaign structure, and pull together a serious policy platform.

'No one's under any illusion we can just waltz into power.'

The breakthroughs secured at the General Election last year and at the Runcorn by-election in May have been undermined by infighting and scandals.

As a result of which his Commons strength of four Members of Parliament is actually lower than the five MPs it was this time last year. And though Farage has pledged to weed out the cranks and extremists from his ranks, it remains an open question what sort of political flotsam and jetsam will emerge when he finally unveils a full slate of 650 parliamentary candidates.

So his critics are correct. If there was an election tomorrow, Nigel Farage almost certainly would not win it. And if by some bizarre twist of fate he did, his administration would inevitably implode within weeks, if not days.

But there is not going to be a General Election tomorrow. There is unlikely to be one for another three or four years. So, for the moment, Reform's leader doesn't need to look like a Prime Minister in waiting.

All he needs to do is distinguish himself, in the eyes of an increasingly disillusioned and demoralised electorate, from the Prime Minister we've got.

And in that, he's succeeding beyond his wildest dreams.

Yesterday he held a press conference on law and order. If elected, he would establish five 'Nightingale prisons', he announced.

Each would be named after an historical figure linked to policing, like former Tory prime minister and founder of the Metropolitan police Robert Peel. 'If you're a criminal, we are putting you on notice. In 2029 you have a choice to make: be a law-abiding citizen or face serious justice,' he vowed yesterday in this paper.

Labour immediately rushed out a response. 'These are empty promises from Farage, whose plans are unfunded and undeliverable. This government is delivering the biggest jail expansion in over 100 years, and we've already opened 2,400 cells since taking office', hissed an anonymous Government insider.

Correct. Since Labour entered office they have indeed been 'opening' cells. And several thousand criminals have come swarming out of them and onto our streets.

As for Starmer's promise of the biggest jail expansion in a century, Britain's weary voters will place it in the increasingly bulky file marked 'Believe It When We See It'.

Some of the criticism aimed at Farage's pledges is justified. As with many of Reform's other policy offers, their prison reforms are not underpinned by credible costings.

Which would be a potentially effective line of attack for Keir Starmer – if it weren't for the fact his own Government is itself chucking around unfunded and undeliverable policies like confetti.

Take last month's commitment at the Nato summit to spend 5 per cent of GDP on defence, a pledge that followed the previously uncosted promise to raise it to 3.5 per cent. Or the gap in the public finances created by the welfare U-turn. Or the reversal on winter fuel allowances for pensioners.

Nigel Farage may stand guilty of making his numbers up on a fag packet. But at least it's a packet. Starmer and Rachel Reeves are currently scribbling their costings on the back of a roll-your-own.

Similarly, Farage's press conference may have been designed to push populists' buttons. But it was punchy. It was eye-catching.

And crucially, it was aligned with the actual priorities of the British people.

Crime. Immigration. Economic insecurity. Like him or loathe him, these are the drums Farage keeps banging.

In contrast, Keir Starmer's strategy is to keep deflecting. Inside Downing Street a debate has been raging about whether to challenge Reform head-on, or try to shift the political conversation into other areas.

Some of the Prime Minister's aides want to develop strong lines on the small boats and net migration. Other advisers are claiming these are difficult – if not impossible – issues to tackle, and want the focus shifted to other areas of 'delivery', such as education and health.

Currently the 'deflectors' are prevailing. With the result that voters see a Government that is apparently oblivious to their actual concerns. 'We want you to do something about the small-boat invasion!' they say. 'OK. But have you seen what we're doing with free breakfast clubs?' is the reply from Labour.

Nigel Farage is currently the only senior politician – with the possible exception of Robert Jenrick – who is seen to actually be speaking for Britain.

And crucially, when he does speak, it's in a voice they recognise. 'If people are convicted of more than three serious offences, well, frankly, we think that puts them on a course towards life imprisonment', Farage said yesterday.

In policy terms, it's a meaningless pledge. What is the definition of a 'serious offence'? How will he find the capacity – even with his Peel Pop-Ups – for such a dramatic increase in the prison population? Are we really going to see convicted burglars doing the same time as serial killers?

But again, it doesn't matter. Because the voters know Nigel Farage is not actually going to be placed in charge of prison's policy, or be in any position to practically influence it for years.

The only issue for now is whether what he's saying has any resonance for Britons. And it does.

It's a stark comparison with the Prime Minister. In Keir Starmer, the public sees a man who can't even deliver words that resonate with himself.

Every time Reform's leader delivers a speech, he faces a concerted backlash from all political quarters. But he will not resile from it.

Indeed, invariably, he will double down on it.

Contrast that with Sir Keir, and his recent observation Britain was becoming an 'island of strangers'.

He managed to stand by his words for the sum total of five weeks. Then he recanted, emotionally declaring: 'No – it wasn't right. I'll give you the honest truth: I deeply regret using it.'

The British people don't think they simply live on an island of strangers. They think they live on an island that is currently under siege. Literally, in terms of the influx of migrants – legal and illegal – arriving on their shores. But also culturally and spiritually, in the form of global economic, political and social forces they feel powerless to understand, never mind manage or tame.

And in some ways they may be wrong in those perceptions, and misguided in their preferred solutions. But for now, they don't want to hear that.

And they certainly don't want to hear it from Keir Starmer, the man who pledged to deliver 'change', and who is instead seen to have done little more than extend a toxic status-quo.

All the people of Britain want for the moment is someone who will listen to them. Then respond to them in kind.

Not with lectures and admonition. But a degree of empathy and understanding. For the time being, that person is Nigel Farage.