...and we're off! For years a joke (home of the Chav etc), but what does the Prime Minister do as soon as he announces the date for a general election? Gets on a train and tears down to the most important part of the country, the Medway Towns.
It's only natural. It's only right.
My mum will be spewing, she does the odd trip over to Morrison's (supermarket variety being the spice of life and all that), and having been a radical Marxist whilst living in San Francisco in the sixties, would have relished the opportunity to pin Broon down on his socialist beliefs, and the abandonment of such. (Not really, she'd have got in a flap and hovered about gawking, then given me chapter and verse on it for an hour when I spoke to her on the blower on Sunday. She saw Prince Charles visiting a retried serviceman's home next to Gillingham Park last year, so she's got form in this area.)
So, it's going to be the tightest election in years and Cameron could be the youngest PM in nearly two hundred years. It seems like it might be really close because it really is a close call trying to decide which lot you dislike the least. Well, out of the top two anyway. I'd vote for the Lib Dems and their promise to introduce proportional representation, but then you can promise all sorts when you've got Bob and none of winning. It might count if it's hung though.
So Labour or the Tories then? As much as Gordon seems to have done a shocking job since coming in, and generally seems a bit mental and unsure of himself, like Cloughie at Leeds rather than his Forest or Derby days, the fuck ups he makes seem like accidents, whereas Cameron seems to be trying to hide his true identity until he can get his foot in the door, trying to get you to avoid looking too closely at what are scary Thatcher-type beliefs. It seems that once he was in, getting fucked over wouldn't be any accident at all. If you're minted, got private healthcare, put your kids in private schools, he'll probably be the best bet, but as the rest of the country went to shit you'd have to build a bigger wall around your little world to protect it from increasingly desperate times.
My old boss is big mates with Dave, went to Eton with him and still goes round his house for dinner. My boss also toned down his nyron-n-hookers stories from the good old days once Dave was shaping up to be top boy of the Tories and then the country, but there's no doubt he enjoyed himself as a lad. Which is all well and good, but it's the hypocrisy that has to follow in your quest to secure the Tonbridge Pensioner Daily Mail vote.
Annoyingly, it's Broon that probably got up to nothing much more than ten pints and baring his arse for the rugby team as a lad, so he's probably in a better position to appeal to right wing old farts who shit themselves every time their doorbell goes thinking it's some Romanian come to rob and rape them. Give them my old boss's nudge-nudge wink-wink stories about what him, big Dave and Charles Spencer got up to back in the day and they'd be voting Labour quicker than you can say Daily Mail.
My boss seemed like an alright lad at times, and he had some cracking tales to tell when we'd be out on a work do and he got loose-tongued after a few bevvies, but then every now and again he'd come out with some right wing viewpoint or some story about growing up with servants and you realised he was from a different planet and you had absolutely fuck all in common with him. He was the owner, you were the worker who made money for him. Unless you were a fit bird, cause as well as making money for him he'd take you out for a long lunch, get you pissed, and try to give you one. Marvellous.
Labour with a small majority? Could a hung parliament be any use? I'm not a fan of voting someone in then watching as they do whatever they like for five years, completely ignoring the public until the next election then using "we're better than the other lot" as a campaign slogan. Pity there aren't more top boys like Jezza Corbyn, voting for him didn't leave a bad taste in the mouth or seem like a total waste.
Gillingham's got to turn Tory this time hasn't it? It's always felt more conservative than labour. Get your applications in now to the Upper Gillingham Conservative club, I'll get my uncle to put in a good word for you. I think it's still under one-fifty for a pint of lager, there's a snooker room, and the fruity jackpot is two hundred quid. All that and you're on the winning team, what's not to love? If it goes really well it'll be back to the days of Masonic handshakes and climbing the business and social ladder with one elbow propped on the bar. Happy days.
1 comment:
It's speaks volumes of the giant cock Labour have made of everything that an evil little toad like Cameron is even taken seriously. Not by me, obviously, him and his party can go fuck themselves, but generally. If you could treat it like sport then it would be quite exciting, to giants of the game, neck and neck, slugging it out for the big prize. Unfortunately, it's not sport, which takes some of the pleasure out of the whole thing.
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