Category Archives: Racism

Back to You in the Studio

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So how long did you stay up? I went into this evening with such a great determination to see it through til the early hours. After all this is the most exciting of elections in living memory, isn’t it? Well that’s what the BBC kept telling me. Tight as a gnat’s chuff, apparently. As I start this post it’s 11.15 pm and I’m already wilting. At 10 o’clock the exit poll was announced and it declared that, after all that had gone on over the past four weeks, the Tories and the Labour party had run away with it, with the Liberals in a poor third. Maybe the Beeb has it all wrong (again) but it does seem depressingly familiar.

10.49 brought the first result from the constituency of Sunderland Somewhere. They’d employed an army of small boys, running like the wind, to carry the ballot boxes to the counters, (bank tellers, I’m told) who ripped through the piles of votes at the speed of light to ensure they declared their result before any other count. If you lived in Sunderland, wouldn’t you want a little more care spent over your precious vote? I know I would. Bloody annoyed me. Felt the whole system was being trivialised. How wrong I was. I was peaking far too early. When Dom Jolly, Kelly Holmes, Bruce Forsyth, Fern Britton and Don Logan from Sexy Beast were asked to contribute to the night, I knew that this was the time when serious political thought and coverage was crashing down to earth like a UKIP Nazis in a PZL-104 Wilga 35A Polish fixed-wing aircraft.

The one thing keeping me awake is the appalling news that large numbers of people have been locked out of polling stations, the system seeming unable to cope with the late rush from the night workers, the Dog and Duck or wherever. Who the Hazel bears is running this debacle? Robert Mugabe ?

Anyway, not wanting to go on like an extended Twitter, I shall leave you to watching the coverage. And anyway, Eric Pickles has just come on the TV and I feel like being violently sick.

More as we get it.

The Conveyor Belt

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If you’re sitting at home, trying to remember what the last batch of Tories were like, help is at hand. I can bring all those memories flooding back:

Now, doesn’t that give you a nice warm feeling all over? Like the time you tried to slit your wrists in the bath ?

But never fear, dear reader. Just put your cross in the wrong box tomorrow and, on Friday, you can start to enjoy the class of 2010: Same old lovely, trustworthy, salt-of-the-earth sort of chaps.

I say you can enjoy it, I shall be under the duvet crying into my bottle of scotch. Put the cat out for me, would you ?

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Gordon Bennett !

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FOR FUCK’S SAKE, GORDON!

DON’T start smiling at old women when they moan about “all these East Europeans”.

DON’T ask her, afterwards, how her grandchildren are and thank her for talking to you.

DON’T smile out of context and wish her a fond farewell.

DON’T carry your radio mic into your car and spout off about what a disaster that was and ranting about what a bigoted old bag she was.

DON’T go onto a prime-time radio show and hold your head in your hands when they playback the tape of what you said in the car.

DON’T THEN go back to that bigoted old woman and apologise (in private) to her about what the press told her you said.

DON’T THEN come out of her house and tell the massed hacks (again, smiling out of context) that you “misunderstood what she said”

AND DON’T keep looking like a PRAT.

DO tell old bags like this, TO HER FACE, that she IS a bigoted old woman, if that’s what you think, and that a socialist (small ‘s’) society has no time for views like hers and that you’re sure the BNP will enjoy her support.

DO tell her to stop reading the The Mail, the The Express and The Sun

DO explain what European immigration has done for the economy and why the ebb and flow of immigration benefits us all.

AND DO stop telling people what you think they want to hear, NOT what you what you actually believe in.

AND DO get rid of the arseholes who are currently advising you on this Oozalum campaign of yours.

THEN you will definitely get my vote.

But for Christ’s sake give me a decent excuse. I’m trying my best, mate !

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