{"id":1424,"date":"2026-08-17T16:20:53","date_gmt":"2026-08-17T16:20:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/2026\/08\/17\/some-of-the-most-trusted-political-voices-in-18th-century-britain-were-fictional-why-this-tradition-lives-on\/"},"modified":"2026-08-17T16:20:53","modified_gmt":"2026-08-17T16:20:53","slug":"some-of-the-most-trusted-political-voices-in-18th-century-britain-were-fictional-why-this-tradition-lives-on","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/2026\/08\/17\/some-of-the-most-trusted-political-voices-in-18th-century-britain-were-fictional-why-this-tradition-lives-on\/","title":{"rendered":"Some of the most trusted political voices in 18th-century Britain were fictional \u2013 why this tradition lives on"},"content":{"rendered":"

British writers in the 18th century repeatedly invented fictional characters to intervene in the politics and culture of their day. These usually began as jokes aimed at particular people or issues, but the most successful outlived their original purpose. They accumulated personalities, histories and audiences of their own, becoming trusted voices through which readers could make sense of the world.<\/p>\n

We see a continuation of this tradition in Clacton by-election loser Count Binface<\/a>. Considered a joke candidate, he made his political debut in 2019 when he stood in the general election against then prime minister, Boris Jonson. He has since become a mainstay of British political life, going on to stand in several more elections in a bid to expose political absurdity. <\/p>\n

Binface was born from 18th century characters like Jonathan Swift\u2019s Bickerstaff. Bickerstaff was invented in 1708 as part of an elaborate hoax designed to discredit John Partridge, a popular astrologer<\/a>. Writing as Bickerstaff, Swift mockingly predicted Partridge\u2019s death and the public largely believed the fictional astrologer. Partridge\u2019s protests to this stunt only provided more satirical fodder for the fictional persona. <\/p>\n

A year later, the politician and journalist Richard Steele adopted Bickerstaff as the fictional editor of The Tatler<\/a> (1709 to 1711). Across hundreds of issues, Bickerstaff developed far beyond Swift\u2019s original joke. He became an elderly bachelor, astrologer and \u201cphilomath\u201d (a lover of learning) whose personality provided a consistent voice for commentary on fashion, manners and politics.<\/p>\n

By the end of The Tatler in 1711, Bickerstaff had effectively become bigger than the satire that created him. Steele closed the publication after feeling that he had exhausted the possibilities of writing as an elderly bachelor astrologer, though readers had become attached to the character himself.<\/p>\n

More than a pretty parrot<\/h2>\n
\n \"Eliza
\n Eliza Haywood used Poll the parrot to express her views.<\/span>
\n Wikimedia<\/a>, CC BY-SA<\/a><\/span>
\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The same process can be seen in Eliza Haywood\u2019s The Parrot (1746)<\/a>, a periodical supposedly written by Poll, a green parrot who had spent decades travelling the world and observing humanity. By speaking as Poll, the writer subverted the \u201cpretty prattler\u201d insult<\/a> used to dismiss intellectually ambitious women as mere mimics of men. This \u201cprattler\u201d made sophisticated arguments and called out the irrational logic that led to the widespread dismissal of female intelligence.<\/p>\n

Poll may have been an absurd fictional creature, but his outsider status allowed Haywood to make serious arguments about equality and prejudice. As the periodical developed, Poll became a vehicle for discussing not only women\u2019s intellectual capacities but the treatment of other marginalised groups, including people of colour, enslaved people and Jacobite sympathisers.<\/p>\n

In one essay, for instance, Poll highlights how absurd it is that the public can so easily dismiss his thoughts and feelings simply because the colour he \u201cbrought into the world\u201d was green and not white. \u201cHow I could laugh now,\u201d he laments, \u201cif I took half as much pleasure in ridiculing the follies of mankind, as you do in those of each other!\u201d<\/p>\n

An outsider\u2019s view<\/h2>\n
\n \"Oliver
\n Oliver Goldsmith created.<\/span>
\n Wikimedia<\/a>, CC BY-SA<\/a><\/span>
\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Oliver Goldsmith\u2019s The Citizen of the World (1762)<\/a> offers another variation. The work takes the form of letters written by Lien Chi Altangi, a Chinese philosopher visiting London. Originally published in the The Public Ledger, which came out daily, Altangi was initially part of Goldsmith\u2019s satire on Britain\u2019s fashionable fascination with the \u201cexotic\u201d East. But the character rapidly outgrew that particular target. <\/p>\n

Because Altangi was perceived as standing outside British society, he could make familiar things look strange. His comments on British politics, religion, fashion, manners and social inequality come with the bemusement of an outsider encountering them for the first time.<\/p>\n

In one edition, for instance, Altangi can\u2019t understand the Englishman\u2019s hypocrisy towards animals. One moment he seemingly cares for the animals he counts as pets more than he does for other humans, but a few moments later he slaughters the animals he thinks of as food in particularly cruel and unfeeling ways. <\/p>\n

\u201cWould you believe it\u201d, Altangi asks, \u201cI have seen the very men who have boasted of their tenderness; at the same time devouring the flesh of six different animals tossed up in a fricassee<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n

A man liberated by a midwife<\/h2>\n

Christopher Smart\u2019s Mary Midnight was the fictional editor of The Midwife (1751 to 1753). Through Midnight, a practising midwife with a penchant for vicious satire, Smart found an outlet for views, opinions and playful games not afforded by his public persona as a more conservative figure (a Cambridge scholar and respected poet). <\/p>\n

Midnight fiercely advocated for social justice, and was not afraid to speak truth to power. The Midwife is an eclectic and spirited periodical, taking as its target any stupidity or hypocrisy that the gloriously gossipy Midnight is irked by in any given each week. <\/p>\n

She became so popular that Smart eventually performed as her on the London stage<\/a>. In this way, a fictional editorial voice escaped the page and became a popular performer in her own right.<\/p>\n

These examples reveal something important about how satire works. Fictional personas can be both the target and the vehicle of satire. They can begin by mocking one particular person, prejudice or cultural fashion, but serial publication gives them the opportunity to develop beyond that initial purpose. Repetition creates continuity, which in turn creates the impression that these characters have a distinct and developed personality. It is then this personality that readers come to value and trust over time. <\/p>\n

The history of British satire explains why Binface is more than a joke candidate. A decade of repetition has established a durable persona audiences trust to respond to political events. He can therefore be redeployed against new targets without having to establish his identity each time.<\/p>\n

The 18th-century writers who created Bickerstaff, Poll, Altangi and Midnight could hardly have imagined televised election campaigns, viral videos or politicians communicating through memes. Yet they understood something that remains true: a fictional character can acquire a more durable public identity than the joke that created them. <\/p>\n

Count Binface may look like a peculiarly modern political phenomenon. But beneath the giant helmet is a very old idea: sometimes satire works best when it gives its argument a face, a personality and a voice of its own.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/p>\n

Adam J Smith does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

British writers in the 18th century repeatedly invented fictional characters to intervene in the politics and culture of their day. These usually began as jokes aimed at particular people or issues, but the most successful outlived their original purpose. They accumulated personalities, histories and audiences of their own, becoming trusted voices through which readers could […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1424","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1424","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1424"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1424\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1424"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1424"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redzine.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1424"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}