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Gripped by election fever
Oct 2, 2007
Will he; won't he? Should he; shouldn't he? Might he; might
he not? Yes, it's reaching fever pitch out there in the streets, farms, caravan
sites and lap dancing clubs. Will there be an election or not?
Will the good people of Teesdale, once described by Tony Blair as ‘among the 10 most politically aware groups of people in South West Durham,' be plunged into another period of enforced apathy?
Will the knitting clubs and allotments once again be agog with discussion about creeping regionalisation, income tax offset banding and recidivism rates in over-80s shoplifting offenders?
Dunno, really. I'm just a novice in these matters, so I thought I'd better have a ring round to check out local opinion on how England is being ruled by the Scots (sorry, North Britons).
The local Labour Party had decamped to Bournemouth. I asked if they were enjoying the Party Conference.
"The what?" their spokesperson replied. "Never heard of it. Nah, the MP's mother-in-law owns a disco club on the front and they've all gone down to get legless.
"We never let politics get in the way of drinking."
I inquired whether they thought an election was on the cards.
"Couldn't give a toss old pal," came the reply. "We get shedloads of votes anyway, so it's best to just shut up and let the telly do all the work. The only way we'd choose a different candidate would be if this one had an opinion on anything. Or mentioned Socialism. Dirty word that. See ya."
The Conservative nerve centre, sported a picture of the late Brigadier Sir Alistair Ring-Binding, BBC, MOT, who was portrayed strangling a stag with his bare hands with Mrs Thatcher, looking on admiringly.
"Everything is completely in hand for an early poll," said Rory Smythe-Hastings, known to all as Pongo.
"All we need to do is appoint a candidate, get some money, get the printing done, threaten to kill ourselves if we don't withdraw from Europe, talk a lot and then do some campaigning. Piece of cake, really."
Adrian Hadrian, Lib-Dem guru, stood outside the eco-friendly campaign shed on the moorside, put another bricquette of reconstituted sewage on the open fire and sighed.
It was all so very discouraging, knowing that the general public had responded so negatively to the new policy initiative requiring school meals to consist entirely of recycled waste matter.
"Don't they see that the world is teetering on the brink of an irreversible and absolute ecological disaster of unprecedented magnitude," bleated the little twerp.
"Why, only yesterday I was talking to a chap who said that if global warming meant being warm for a change, he was all for it. Utterly shocking!"
Adrian also added that he did not regard the fact that his party leader was born during the reign of William the Fourth as necessarily being a disadvantage.
Everything was different down at Invercockyleeky House, HQ of the SNP, where stood the formidable Aileen McAilish, politician and part-time crane driver, who won last time.
She was, unfortunately, unseated following her decision to claim several thousand pounds on her election expenses on ‘alcohol-related items'.
She was convinced there would be no slip-up this time. After victory, she would be committed to a referendum on whether Teesdale should become part of Scotland.
"A bit like Gibraltar is to the damned English oppressors," she beamed. I asked if it would not be something of an anomaly to have a SNP MP.
"Why, you're not one of those Plaid Cymru maniacs, are you?" she bristled, before offering to settle the matter with a punch-up in the car park.
"Why shouldn't there be an SNP MP here," she screeched.
"We Scots rule everything else, as is our birthright."
Teesdale District Council's spokesperson, Mr Dontsaymynameimscared, said that an election would be ‘just another stroll in the park' for their finely-tuned adminstrative machine.
"Nothing can possibly go wrong," he said, placing a bag over his head for fear of being identified.
First published in the Mercury, September 26, 2007