How do you turn a duck into a soul singer? Oh wait… Hang on… A general election has just been called. Not a column inch can be spared for big tits and wheelchair bound blind babies. It’s time for the hacks to scythe apart the souls of the damned as the latest lunatics attempt to seize control of the asylum.
Normally in the UK, people don’t really give a shit about politics or politicians unless the Mirror and the Sun decide that they need to. To illustrate, a recent by-election in Glasgow East was decided by a naked swimathon after the four people who were registered to vote were found to be either clinically dead or making love for the right price at the pleasure of Her Majesty.
For those who do legitimately exist and opt to vote, this sacred right is often seen as something of a pointless lark. My friend Jodie once voted off the back of a Keith Richards-esque bender for the Pensioners Alliance despite being only 20 years old. I myself voted for the Scottish Conservatives when I first became eligible to vote; tantamount to trying to get a bomb-toting Asian paedophile a job in the crèche at the head office of the Daily Mail.
To address this pitiful apathy towards British politics, the fair, reasoned and loveable rogues at ITV finally managed to convince the major parties of the validity of an American style policy debate; much to the chagrin of the hundreds of other small to medium sized parties in our pluralist system all pissing in the wind this election at great cost to themselves and others.
The tens of tens of UKIP voters had to be restrained; nothing to do with the matter in hand they were just inconsolable upon finding out that the debate was being presented by Alastair Stewart and not his affable former 15 to 1 host namesake William. Fourteen catheters and three of their hard-working, low paid and undervalued legally migrant companion carers were injured in the ensuing carnage.
Clegg, Brown and Blair (nee Cameron) fielded a selection of questions from an apparently representative audience under the guidance of serially convicted drink driver (take that Mail on Sunday) Stewart. All three successfully managed to encourage us of the incompetency of the opposing parties with Clegg making particularly masterful use of his trump card; that of simply not as yet being remotely associated with the Conservative or Labour Party.
I was far from impressed with Clegg to be brutally frank. To be fair, when he talked policy he was in the zone. He was forcing home his well versed manifesto with greater gusto than any recent Lib Dem leader in memory; sorry Charlie.
This was a man aware that he had little to lose in settling at potentially worst for a pivotal role in a coalition government. Nonetheless, I found his overly trained demeanour quite disturbing and his insistence on playing the ‘rational alternative’ card throughout deeply unsettling. The last time I opted to engage something because it was the lesser of alternative evils I ended up working in Hong Kong for a warm and attractive little company called Chatteris.
For me, the ‘Faux-Pas of the Evening Award’ definitely goes to Blair (nee Cameron). Apparently, he knows a black person from ‘Daahn Saahf’ who has not always lived in the UK but supports his hardline approach to immigration. Nice one Tony (sorry, Dave) but I believe that is like saying your mother was once a barrister and her experience alone should be aired to justify your hardline approach on crime. Oh wait… You said that too…
Surprisingly, not least to myself, I found I was most impressed by the performance of Gordon Brown. When you look through his Yeltsin-like tendency to suggest he may not survive another part-term of office, he gave a pretty assured performance.
Brown comfortably portrayed Cameron’s party as impulsive renegades in painting their policies as reactionary, ill-thought and untenable whilst caressing Clegg’s ego and agenda in the face of an ever plausibly hung parliament. I thought it was also either exceptionally foolish or extremely clever of him to paint a pretty grim picture of the coming years regardless of who is in charge.
As far as who I actually want to vote for in the election? Well that is something of a redundant point as I will not actually exercise the sacred right on May 6th. The last person I was even remotely tempted to vote for was that great debater William Hague. I am sure Hague contributed greatly to the remarkably accelerated greying of Blair’s temples and I think it’s a shame he has never yet had the opportunity to prove himself in the top role. Oh well…
There’s always Boris…
Normally in the UK, people don’t really give a shit about politics or politicians unless the Mirror and the Sun decide that they need to. To illustrate, a recent by-election in Glasgow East was decided by a naked swimathon after the four people who were registered to vote were found to be either clinically dead or making love for the right price at the pleasure of Her Majesty.
For those who do legitimately exist and opt to vote, this sacred right is often seen as something of a pointless lark. My friend Jodie once voted off the back of a Keith Richards-esque bender for the Pensioners Alliance despite being only 20 years old. I myself voted for the Scottish Conservatives when I first became eligible to vote; tantamount to trying to get a bomb-toting Asian paedophile a job in the crèche at the head office of the Daily Mail.
To address this pitiful apathy towards British politics, the fair, reasoned and loveable rogues at ITV finally managed to convince the major parties of the validity of an American style policy debate; much to the chagrin of the hundreds of other small to medium sized parties in our pluralist system all pissing in the wind this election at great cost to themselves and others.
The tens of tens of UKIP voters had to be restrained; nothing to do with the matter in hand they were just inconsolable upon finding out that the debate was being presented by Alastair Stewart and not his affable former 15 to 1 host namesake William. Fourteen catheters and three of their hard-working, low paid and undervalued legally migrant companion carers were injured in the ensuing carnage.
Clegg, Brown and Blair (nee Cameron) fielded a selection of questions from an apparently representative audience under the guidance of serially convicted drink driver (take that Mail on Sunday) Stewart. All three successfully managed to encourage us of the incompetency of the opposing parties with Clegg making particularly masterful use of his trump card; that of simply not as yet being remotely associated with the Conservative or Labour Party.
I was far from impressed with Clegg to be brutally frank. To be fair, when he talked policy he was in the zone. He was forcing home his well versed manifesto with greater gusto than any recent Lib Dem leader in memory; sorry Charlie.
This was a man aware that he had little to lose in settling at potentially worst for a pivotal role in a coalition government. Nonetheless, I found his overly trained demeanour quite disturbing and his insistence on playing the ‘rational alternative’ card throughout deeply unsettling. The last time I opted to engage something because it was the lesser of alternative evils I ended up working in Hong Kong for a warm and attractive little company called Chatteris.
For me, the ‘Faux-Pas of the Evening Award’ definitely goes to Blair (nee Cameron). Apparently, he knows a black person from ‘Daahn Saahf’ who has not always lived in the UK but supports his hardline approach to immigration. Nice one Tony (sorry, Dave) but I believe that is like saying your mother was once a barrister and her experience alone should be aired to justify your hardline approach on crime. Oh wait… You said that too…
Surprisingly, not least to myself, I found I was most impressed by the performance of Gordon Brown. When you look through his Yeltsin-like tendency to suggest he may not survive another part-term of office, he gave a pretty assured performance.
Brown comfortably portrayed Cameron’s party as impulsive renegades in painting their policies as reactionary, ill-thought and untenable whilst caressing Clegg’s ego and agenda in the face of an ever plausibly hung parliament. I thought it was also either exceptionally foolish or extremely clever of him to paint a pretty grim picture of the coming years regardless of who is in charge.
As far as who I actually want to vote for in the election? Well that is something of a redundant point as I will not actually exercise the sacred right on May 6th. The last person I was even remotely tempted to vote for was that great debater William Hague. I am sure Hague contributed greatly to the remarkably accelerated greying of Blair’s temples and I think it’s a shame he has never yet had the opportunity to prove himself in the top role. Oh well…
There’s always Boris…
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