Ooh deary deary me readers, tomorrow is Election Day, and I still haven’t thought of anyone I’d like to vote. As I said previously, vote I must, but whom do tick on that extra soft, kind to the skin, valet roll? I’ve finalised one thing with my inner sanctum and the little man that resides in there, I don’t want any of the big three to win. They each have they’re good points, but are ultimately over shadowed by their individual, enormous, pips of political badness. The kind I don’t want in my Government fruit salad of British harmony.
Look at Mr. Clegg, the man know one had heard of before the live leaders debate, he’s crawled out of his hibernation dwelling and told us of the many many nice and wondrous things he’s going to do, should he win. Fantastic, I thought, as I admired his trustworthy features, still miffed as to who he actually was -“Crikey, these hecklers are getting good”. But then he decided, just before completing this magnificent list that he’d quite like to doom us all, and see us disappear into a mushroom cloud that would make even Mount Eyjafjallajokull blush. Yes, somewhere deep in his hibernation, he’d dreamt up a world where Britain doesn’t need nuclear missiles, because of course nobody else has them, and sheep are pink too.
Then we have Mr. Cameron, who I have decided, after seeing him on the news and what-not clearly isn’t human. He’s just too perfect. He meets potential supporters, he says the right things, and he never batters an eyelid, always maintaining a face of perpetual calm coolness, with the occasional surreal smile or slow blink, as if everything is automated. I honestly believe he’s an android created by the wealthy, to ensure they maintain their wealthyness. I’m not wealthy, so that’s a no too.
We move on to Golden Gordan, the most human out of the lot. He’s clumsy, makes mistakes, calls old ladies bigoted and pulls some funny faces. He also has a glorious talent for making any contact with the public toe curling, with his monotonous highland bumbling. However, he does appear to be….Warm? Whereas Cameron is cold and clinical. I like warm very much. But that can’t account for the trouble we’re in, and all the rubbish his party have churched out for me and people with nothing to do to grumble at on the internet.
But what parties are left? There’s the BNP, but I’ve misplaced my burning cross and bed sheets with peep holes. There’s UKIP, there’s The Monster Raving Loony Party (no lie), Legalise Cannabis…. There’s loads! It’s impossible! And I can guarantee that whoever wins will still make life difficult.
So… What to do?
Thanks to a combination of my horrific organisational skills and a flurry of work, I forgot to post this. And now… it’s all over. Wonderful. You’d assume that the world would be happy, thanking the heavens that this monotony has mercifully ceased. But no, it’s just begun. Obviously, much of the country had encountered the same conundrum as I, and as a result, there was no clear winner. Great. So, what happens now? Collation government? A revote? All possibilities that we have to look forward to. But in the meantime, who’s doing the job of looking after us?