The Word Cloud

Ah. It is good to be back! This contains the complete gamut of vitriol, profanity and un-tempered anger that you should, by now, be used to from me. It's complete rubbish so don't bother reading it. Thanks for getting this far and increasing my tick counter by one... you may go home now. No... really... you should...

Well, don't say I didn't warn you...


Britain’s First Political Debacle (Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Please, for the sake of my sanity, imagine that "debacle" is struckthrough an editable option on this bloody site that doesn't work. EVEN IN SODDING CHROME! Gaaaaaaaaaah.) Debate

Why is it that I feel I’m no longer voting for what I want but against what I don’t want? I’m increasingly looking at the lesser of two (or three) evils. Is it just me or is this just wrong? Take the recent plunging depression that was our first “live” (can you call it “live” when the audience were quite obviously stuffed and mounted – if not physically then at least metaphorically – hmmm?) TV debate…

If I were to gamble, I would bet that all three candidates were slightly less annoying than the idiot that hosted it, marginally less annoying than the wet and wuss-y way we presented a pathetic and perverted UK version of an American political debate with all the fire and fervour of an arthritic grandmother knitting her last pair of booties for a great-grandchild she’ll never see (not because she’s blind but mostly because, despite still only being in her forties, she’s three minutes from the pearly gates due to her current NHS hospital incumbency for an in-growing toe-nail and the odds of her surviving MRSA, C-Diff, Nora and incompetence shorten in logarithmic proportion to her length of stay (one inpatient stay = ~3 minutes give or take a miracle or two)), nowhere near as aggravating as the crass and unnecessary “introducing of the questioners” (“And now we have a Jew1sh schoolboy with a serious speech impediment or a silver spoon deeply embedded within his small intestine (having bypassed his sphincter post-birth) who is going to ask a deep and meaningful question” – is it going to be on education by any stretch of the imagination…? Is it? Is it? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! It is! How abso-fucking-lutely amazing! On “quality” of learning no less! To be honest; fair play to the lad, he had some balls – which arguably he probably didn’t have by the end of school that day. I must admit I was on the edge of my seat to see if he could raise the bar on this garbage by asking “when can I be a milk monitor again?” but he disappointed me with some trite twaddle about schoolchildren being over-examined and under-taught (very clever, I’m guessing you wouldn’t be one of those would you?) and I fell back into the comfort of my couch-potato pose – only now with a bad back due to the exertion of keeping my slim frame erect (chortle) for the nano-seconds of interest I had) and, I bet, comprehensively less rage-inducing than the fact that not one of those pompous posing prats are remotely capable of recognising, let alone fixing, the complete shambles that is the politics in their own sceptic aisles.

With an incompetent incumbent bumbling along with platitudes and empty promises, repeatedly rolling off “improvement” figures (completely missing the point that we don’t want “improvement” in immigration and crime, we want a sodding cessation) like someone rejected from The Hammer House of Horrors for being too slimy/creepy,  I felt at odds trying to consider the alternatives when he was standing next to (but not too close) a suit-shaming oxygen-wasting weak-kneed wannabe with a penchant for “reaching out” by sharing personal introductions to “the people” (“last week I met a black man who was disgusted about the state of immigration…” OH. MY. GOD. A black man complaining about immigration and the state of the nation! What is the world coming to? It’s almost as if he had a right to mention it! (please note the heavily sarcastic overtones – I am not being racist, unless my white-man-speak-with-head-up-own-arse viewpoint is racist in which case… bring it on whitey – I am galled that we are considered so stupid as to think that Cameron talking to a black fellow (with an opinion on immigration) is supposed to make us sit up and take notice. It was patronising, pathetic and pissed on my evening well and proper.)

What is it with our current political rejects? Who gives a shit who you’ve met?! Stop telling us about who you’ve met! Start telling us about how you (not your spin doctor) are personally ashamed of the morally bankrupt politicians that you call “friends and colleagues” (Yes ALL of you – you may not have dipped your fingers in the pie but I’m damned sure that someone close to you did, so when is the last time you considered (and acted upon) the adage “All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing”, hmmm?), how you fear for your life every time you walk down the street at night, how you have been bloody burgled sixteen times by the same arrogant, educationally bereft scrote from three streets away who happily taunts you with his collection of ASBO’s (he only has to add “kitten drowning” and he has the full set – I always said it was a mistake allowing Top Trumps to produce the ASBO paperwork) and is smart enough to wait until your insurance policy has paid out and you’ve replaced the telly he nicked last week with a nice shiny new one that he is going to nick next week – a lesson he picked up from his brief sojourn to that all expenses paid holiday camp (don’t get excited, “don’t drop the soap in the shower” is a fallacy – it’s easier to have a full and consummate relationship in prison than it is in a conservative backed bed and breakfast, whether you are straight or not) that is our “over-crowded” prisons. (as Nick Clog – the “where’s Wally” equivalent in politics – only it’s actually called “who the fuck is this Wally, again?” – pointed out) But no; no, you want to wheel out some “looky-feely” dross that no-one (except of course the poor schmuck you cornered for political kudos) cares about.

Stop slagging each other off, too. Tell us what you will do, how much your policies are going to cost, and make bloody damn sure that it’s what I want to hear. We’re not stupid; The only people who really think there is an “everyone’s a winner” policy are either in institutions or politics (and, therefore, should be in an institution.) I know that what I want has a cost, you know that what I want has a cost, hell even a five-year old knows that what I want has a cost – JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCKING COST IS! GAAAAAAAH! You want more bobbies on the beat? Fine, that will be a tax hike of 1p in every pound, thank you very much. An NHS service that doesn’t put you in fear for your life? (Do NOT get me started on this one – it’s a whole other blog, and no mistake) Fine, that will be 10p for every pound. Don’t want to pay that much? Fine; then put up with what you’ve got. You want our boys at war to have better equipment? Sure BUT YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PAY! Oh and while we’re at it, fed up with pissing £40Million pounds a day (that’s £40 Million… A DAY) over to Europe just so’s they can tell you your banana’s are too bent and you’re sausages are too straight? Fine; well these are the consequences... etc. etc. etc. Still want to do it? Cool. Vote for Me.

And, in the interest of purdah (which is, as far as I can work out, a cross between purgatory, perjury and a veranda…but I may have got that wrong…), I am so not going to comment on the yellow teams stance in all this; on account I really, really, really, couldn’t give a shit. And besides, I forgot they existed until the debate and have yet to check ‘em out.

Although… I have begun trawling the (even) lesser known political parties in the vain hope I can find one that, whilst pandering to my extreme left/right/fence-sitting views, doesn’t intend to invade Poland and is not so chinlessly inept as to make me want to be violently sick every time I see their smug fizzogs everywhere reminding me, not just of what a prat I was voting them in, but also how achingly awful the situation is that made me choose to vote them in in the first place.

Who in the real world, seriously, gives a flying fuck about The House of Lords? Trident (although I always thought their chewing gum was tasty, albeit briefly)? Let’s ignore the crippling tax, the shockingly poor health service, the inept (and frankly horrifically unfair – unless you’re a criminal) judicial system, the racial clique that is the police force (and that includes the shadier characters…), the abomination of old peoples homes, the fact that, frankly, we are at war and no-one seems to understand the consequences or care that Britain just does not have the stomach for it anymore – well, not when it’s pandering to the bloody Americans, yet again, when (the nation of animal lovers that we are) we would probably rather send our troops to Africa to protect some obscure dinosaur of a creature that has musical teeth and nothing else going for it… but that might just be me (the war thing, not the musical teeth), or that any massively successful UK company on the global stage is bought up and then systematically asset raped and indebted by cartels and corporations who are inescapably profiteering and  incapable of continuing to run or manage them. No, let’s ignore all that and lose the next election on reforming “The House Of Lords.” Personally, I think they should leave the churches well alone… *cough* What? What? Did I not mention my familial motto; I, Ignoramus…?

And, on top of all that, when we chose to tune in to the political channel, we find that either the house of commons is completely empty apart from two geriatric duffers who either fell asleep during the last debate and have been left behind (ho ho ho, how jolly humorous) or possibly died and have been left to rot (“not my job”, “don’t we have a janitor chappy to do that sort of thing?”) and when the house is full it’s a mess of childish barracking, peasant-stall booing, and the generally pathetic behaviour that I wouldn’t even attribute to an un-fettered five years olds birthday party let alone the idiots that we are supposed to feel comfortable and confident in letting run our country and therefore, ultimately, our lives. Anyone familiar with the term “rising to your level of incompetence?” Well welcome to the top of the tree. Makes you proud to British doesn’t it?

And as for the language… I am a liberal fellow (my blogs are liberally sprinkled with profanities and abuse and naked ignorance) but I was shocked and appalled at the obscenities EzBird was throwing at the TV (stomping around the living room like a bear with a thorn in her paw). In the end I had to turn over to Have I Got News For You where they were contemplating the Political debate in a much more polite way.

So, in summary; the first ever live British political debate? I wasn’t impressed. Let’s not do it again, eh? Oh… too late.

If anyone is interested I have decided that I like my politics like I like my religion; flavourless. I don’t want to be red or blue (or yellow). What I want is more police on the beat, better NHS, free education, a good defensive military force, lower taxes, cleaner streets, funnier television, fewer crimes, an acre of land for everyone, to work for a space agency that launches from Kettering (I like to be home for 5pm as EzBird gets my tea ready) and, most importantly, I no longer want to be ashamed of my politicians.

Not too much to ask is it?

Sigh

Ez