Electioneering in Ironbridge
“Cattle prods and the IMF. I trust I can rely on your vote?”
“Riot shields
Voodoo economics
It’s life, it’s life
It’s just business
Cattle prods and the I.M.F.
I trust I can rely on your vote?”
“Electioneering” by Radiohead
It was just after 1.30pm and during a particularly testy Twitter tête-à-tête on the upcoming election here in the UK when a duck and her four ducklings came easing on by the River Severn and I thought fuck this noise Jack, I simply don’t need it and neither I would suggest did the ducks. You should have seen them! A proud mother duck leading the troop, four little ones by her side with one in particular forever dunking their way below and up again upon the river. It was good to see at least one was preparing for the rigours of the sweet life ahead of them.
I didn’t need the noise of a Twitter spat about the merits of voting for the latest wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing in a One Party Establishment State and the British wing of the Evil Empire. Who needs that kind of noise?
Not me Jack.
The bells from St Luke’s Church had only just ceased their calling of the half hour in the lucky thirteenth hour of the day, a family of ducks were scooting on by the river of life and I was perched, precariously, on the 13th fishing peg that pockmark the river Severn so awkwardly and yet so beautifully too in my spiritual home of Ironbridge. Unseasonably cold and grey for the time of year, for maybe 45 minutes and maybe just maybe one cigarette too many, I gazed in wonder once more at my own private world from the very best precarious seat in the house and then started singing “Leave a Light On” by Belinda Carlisle for absolutely no reason whatsoever. It wasn’t my proudest moment I have to confess but fuck it right? I had the place of my beating heart all to myself, seeing that small family of ducks had really put a smile on my face and if you can’t belt out “Darling, leave a light on for me. I’ll be there before you close the door. To give you all the love that you need” after watching four little ducklings safely cross the river in a toy town ripped from the pages of a children’s book, then when can you?
Jeremy and his pug dog named “Bear” were both on duty in the town’s “Old Fashioned Sweet Shop” and before departing with some aniseed flavoured “Kop Kop’s” and some luxurious mint toffee I stroked Jeremy’s belly and fussed over him lovingly as I told Bear I’d just been singing a Belinda Carlisle song from the late 1980’s and I could see in the dog’s eyes the pressing, dare I say burning, question of why? I had no answer for him then or indeed now many hours later. The thought has subsequently occurred to me that a 2 year old pug dog would have to have quite a musical knowledge to pose such a question of why, but that would then derail this absurd middle section and who wants to be thinking about a talking dog with a supreme knowledge of Belinda Carlisle songs when there’s an election tomorrow?
It’s almost enough for you to forget the endless mantra of “change will only happen if you vote for it” and people roaming the streets like rabid dogs screaming for a new Messiah. It’s been an ugly affair as usual with the vexatious of the vaudevillian all screaming for their banshee to lead them and for their seat in a house of ill repute to be safe. After an actor, a clipboard carrying supply teacher and a banker’s moll we’re finally going to have an elected member of the very same Establishment club and so naturally, everything is going to change. What larks.
We haven’t quite gone down the “Democracy is on the ballot” line of our cousins in the USA, and other wing of the Evil Empire. Nor do we have a barely animated corpse running against a TV Game Show Host. No, we have a cardboard cutout humanoid and a man so rich he could live a thousand lifetimes and never come close to pin-pricking his personal mammon mountain.
Men of the People, Jack, and don’t you forget it.
So it’s all change here in the UK and the people will wave their flags tomorrow and wear their coloured rosettes with pride. There will be a new sheriff in town, much like the old sheriff and the one before that but change is afoot Jack, change we can believe in. A brave new world. A world of change but it’ll look familiar, a friendly face of change if you will.
There are some who say there will be no change at all but they are fools Jack, fools! They cannot see the bright new dawn lying ahead of them, not yet. But they will. There’s a new sheriff in town.
And the carnival of the bizarre is always in need of a new distraction.
“So I have solved this little political dilemma for myself in a very simple way: on election-day, I-STAY-HOME. I don’t vote. Fuck ’em. FUCK THEM. I don’t vote. Two reasons. Two reasons I don’t vote: first of all, it’s meaningless. This country was bought and sold and paid for a long time ago. The shit they shuffle around every four years doesn’t mean a fuckin’ thing. And secondly, I don’t vote ’cause I believe if you vote, you have no right to complain. People like to twist that around. I know, they say, they say: “well if you don’t vote you have no right to complain”. But where’s the logic in that? If you vote, and you elect dishonest, incompetent people, and they get into office and screw everything up, well you are responsible for what they have done, YOU caused the problem, you voted them in, you have no right to complain. I on the other hand, who did not vote, WHO DID NOT VOTE. Who in fact did not even leave the house on election-day, am in no way responsible for what these people have done, and have every RIGHT to complain as loud as I want, about the mess YOU created, that I had nothing to do with. So I know that a little later on this year, you’re going to have another one of those really swell presidential elections that you like so much. You enjoy yourselves. It will be a lot of fun. I’m sure as soon as the election is over, your country will “improve” immediately. As for me, I’ll be home on that day, doing essentially the same thing as you, the only difference is, when I get finished masturbating, I’m going to have a little something to show for it folks”.
George Carlin
May your God still bless you sweet man, wherever you are.
Thanks for reading. For more gibberish, bunkum and balderdash such as this, here’s some more piffle and fluff I prepared earlier.
Quick one for my subscribers - I never check the reading statistics as who needs that kind of utter spirit crushing disappointment in their lives? Anyway, I’ve noticed that some of you have 5 stars next to you name and I’m presuming that means you open/read next to all of my articles. What are you people? Masochists?
Anyway, thanks, from the heart of my bottom.
And thanks for being here.
