KENT is about as far away from Scotland culturally and geographically as it is possible to get in the UK. Yet what happens in the sixth highest populated county in England, only 20.7 miles from Calais at its closest, has massive ramifications here.

As someone with a Scottish background but born and brought up in Kent, there is a disconnect between the Leavers of the Garden of England and the more generally pro-EU Scotland.

In Kent, 59% voters opted to leave the EU in June. It seems apt, given Brexit was promoted as a protest against the rich and the political classes, that the only Remain-voting local authority in the county was Tunbridge Wells; a town whose food bank offers a home delivery service because claimants are allegedly too embarrassed to queue through the town’s famously affluent streets.

Granted, Brexiteers nationwide voted on the grounds that they felt excluded from mainstream politics and that voting Remain was a stance reserved for Britain’s elite; but the tanks rolled towards Westminster across Kentish lawns because what are often abstract conversations about immigration in much of Scotland are real-life, often everyday issues, for residents. Many also felt patronised by David Cameron’s scaremongering that the Jungle camp would relocate itself from Calais to their green fields.

In the context of the debate, Kent was different to the rest of Britain. UKIP gathers unique traction in what is arguably their spiritual home. Nigel Farage was born there, proudly posing as ‘Nigel from Kent’ when gate-crashing a Labour leadership debate in 2015. Two of his election campaigns were for South Thanet’s Parliamentary seat with another in the Bromley and Chislehurst constituency, which straddles Greater London and Kent.

The party briefly held the seat for Rochester and Strood, and won control of Thanet Council in 2015, their first in the UK. Today, Kent County Council has more UKIP councillors than Labour ones.

In a broader sense, Anglo-nationalism has set deep roots in Kent. Not only does UKIP enjoy a strong voice, but Britain First’s HQ is there, with the group holding ‘days of action’ in county towns such as Margate and Canterbury.

Residents are sandwiched between London and France, noses pressed against European glass, and lectured on the dangers of the bureaucracy, powers, and politics that lie beyond. They feel as if they’re on the front lines of the debate.

In 2015, Operation Stack (closing large portions of the London-Dover M20 motorway to allow lorries to queue to cross the English Channel when travel by ferry and the Eurotunnel is disrupted) was implemented because of migrant action in Calais. The operation puts enormous strain on local roads with knock on effects for businesses.

There are regular accounts of migrants being rescued off the Kent coast after ill-fated attempts to cross the channel under their own steam, or migrants emerging from the back of lorries and hot-footing it down the motorway. These are the coasts and roads that locals use every day.

Even as a staunch Remainer, it’s hard for me to deny that this first-hand experience of the migrant crisis combined with Farage and UKIP’s drum-beating makes the Kent a hot spot for pro-Brexit feeling. That’s before you discuss the impact of EU fishing quotas on a county with over 200 miles of coastline, or wading into the debates around the NHS, parliamentary sovereignty, or the single market. One thing is for sure, though, that the voice of Kent's 1.5million people will be heard far more clearer in Westminster than that of Scotland's 5.3 million.