Things
Can Only Get Worse
By
Dominic Horton
So
like many events that are built up by the media, such as the Floyd
Mayweather Vs Manny Pacquiao 'Fight of the Century' bout, the general
election turned out to be the dampest of squibs and not, as
predicted, one of the closest elections in years with a hung
parliament bringing intrigue, frenetic negotiations between the
parties and a soap opera for the media to feast on. On Thursday
evening I was all set to watch the BBC's election coverage from the
comfort of my bed at my Codger Mansions homestead and I was keenly
anticipating a long night of twists and turns all carefully stewarded
by the unflappable institution that is Richard Dimbleby, culminating
in a breathtaking photo finish. But then the exit poll was revealed
and like an overly excited teenager having his first sexual encounter
the election had prematurely ejaculated.
 |
| Ed Miliband looking a bit dejected. |
It
was clear that the Tories would be back in power come Friday, even if
they had to do a deal with the likes of the DUP. So as it turned out
I was asleep by 2300 hours and although I hoped that the exit polls
had got their predictions horribly wrong I knew that the game was up
and that Labour had failed to take power. In reality even if it had
of been the most exciting election in years I doubt whether I would
have made it much past midnight before nodding off, such is my
inability to endure beyond that hour these days.
It
was all a far cry from the election of 1997 when El Pistolero and I
sat up through the night, tinnies in hand, watching the Tory seats
fall one by one like dominoes, with Labour winning a landslide
victory, taking a mammoth 418 seats, to finally oust John Major's
Thatcherite Conservative government which had been in power for 18
long years. We cheered as if Aston Villa had just scored a winning
goal when the likes of Michael Portillo, Malcolm Rifkind, Norman
Lamont and Edwina Currie humiliatingly lost their seats and when
Giles Brandreth also fell the levity of the evening hit a peak. It is
unlikely in my lifetime that the 1997 election, like the 1982 World
Cup, will be bettered. Things can only get worse.
I
wish the Returning Officers would not reveal the outcome of the
constituency ballots to the candidates before announcing the
results to the world at large, as you can often tell who has won the
vote by a revealing suppressed smile of the face of the
winner or a look of thunder on the boat race of a loser. Keeping the
results under wraps until the official announcement might lead to
more emotional responses from the candidates who have won seats,
especially in close calls, and it would liven up the proceedings no
end if an elated winner shouted, “get in there you f*cking
beauty!!!!” But this would most likely not happen as there is far
too much decorum among the candidates standing for seats in
parliament. I would much rather see an abashed loser, who is getting
dogs abuse from the crowd, throw his dummies out of the pram before
exclaiming, “why don't you f*ck off you w*nkers - I'm off down the
boozer!”
 |
The infamous Paddy Pantsdown headline
from The Sun
|
But
it could be argued that there is no shame for a party member to lose
her/ his seat in a close run ballot. The Shadow Chancellor Ed Balls,
the former Right Honourable Member for Morley & Outwood, was
deposed by the Tory candidate Andrea Jenkyns by a mere 422 votes, but
at least 18,354 souls in the constituency did have faith in
him. The real humiliation in the election is for
hapless candidates such as Nathan Handley, an Independent in David
Cameron's constituency of Witney, who commanded only 12 votes.
Handley was even shamefully outvoted by Bobby Smith of the Give me
Back Elmo Party (37 votes) and Vivien Saunders of the Reduce VAT in
Sport Party (56 votes.)
As
a minimum I am sure Handley would have expected his friends and
family to have voted for him and one imagines that they all pledged
their undying allegiance to his cause. Assuming Handley
voted for himself and that he has more than 11 others in his social
circle he will be left wondering which snakes in the grass promised
him their votes but actually put their crosses in the box of someone
else. On his next trip to his local boozer, like a seasoned poker
player Handley will be gazing keenly into the eyes of his
acquaintances for any little sign of guilt or duplicity. Not knowing
which of his cronies are traitors will mean all trust between them
and Handley will be eroded leading to breakdowns in his
relationships. Hanley could well be left friendless, ruing the day he
decided to waste £500 paying his deposit to stand for Member of
Parliament for Witney.
Hanley's
meagre campaign budget probably did not extend to paying for the
traditional “Vote for XXX” signs that political parties affix to
lamposts. I got to wondering how effective such lampost signs are as
surely not even UKIP supporters would not be persuaded to vote for a
candidate solely on having sight of such a simple sign. That said one
undecided voter who was interviewed on the BBC stated that she
tweeted the two main candidates and voted for the one who tweeted her
back first. This is known as the Twitter for twits Mavis Riley
method.
 |
| Mhairi Black MP, by request of Toby In-Tents. |
When
I popped to vote on Thursday morning I took my dear son Kenteke with
me as his school was being used as a polling station and was closed
for the day. Kenteke asked me a series of questions to try to get to
the bottom of what this election business is all about and I
explained, with some difficulty on my part, the electoral system as
best I could and eventually he seemed to understand; gawd help we if
ever we move to a system of proportional representation. As is the
want of a 10 year old boy, Kenteke's biggest concern on Thursday was
wanting a game of football with his new Champions League ball (which
turned out to be rather good, I have to say). But when I woke him on
Friday morning the first thing he did was to ask me the result of the
election and instead of tuning into the Cartoon Channel on TV whilst
eating his breakfast he watched the BBC's election coverage instead,
which by then had taken on the feel of post-game analysis on Match of
the Day, but instead of Lineker, Shearer and Savage it was Dimbleby,
Andrew Marr and Jo Coburn picking the bones out of the matter.
Dimbleby,
Marr and Coburn all agreed that the biggest winners of the night
(other than the Tories of course) were the Scottish National Party
who gained a bumper 50 seats north of the border, catapulting their
total number to 56. The new SNP MPs included 20 year old Mhairi Black
- who ousted the shadow foreign secretary Douglas Alexander from his
Paisley and Renfrewshire South seat – to become the youngest Member
of Parliament since 13 year old Christopher Monck in 1667. Monck was
probably only successful as everyone else had died of the plague.
 |
| Giles Brandreth. |
One
can hardly blame the members of the Scottish National Party from
wanting to split from England, a country which is so messed up and
confused that the flying of the national St George's Cross flag is
often seen as primarily an act of xenophobia and not one of
patriotism. (Discuss.) The Liberal Democrats were one of the biggest
losers with 49 of their seats being culled, leaving just 8 in total,
but their former leader Paddy Ashdown was convinced that the exit
poll was wrong stating to Andrew Neill on the BBC that he would “eat
his hat” if it was accurate. As the results rolled in Paddy Ashdown
once more became Paddy Pantsdown.
As
Friday wore on there seemed little point in following the election
coverage on the BBC as the result was depressing enough without
having to suffer the prolonged media aftermath. So it was back to the
escapism and reassuring tones of the eternally breezy Alan Brazil on
Talk Sport. Like the general election sport can leave you dejected
but at least if your team loses you don't have to wait five years for
them to put it right.
©
Dominic Horton, May 2015.
Lowlife
is dedicated to the memory of the late Jonathan Rendall
Email:
lordhofr@gmail.com
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