Lest we Forget…..

At the time of writing, the general election is only four days away. It can’t come soon enough, after what has been a thoroughly miserable, profoundly depressing campaign. And the polls haven’t shifted a notch in terms of closing the gap, so we might as well have had a seven day campaign and spared everyone the grief. Instead, there’s been five weeks of watching a dwindling band of Tories, the few left who are still prepared to debase themselves, lie through their teeth on the media treadmill every day, which has left me feeling very detached from the whole business. Those Tories that have declined to take part in the undignified circus have done so, not because of an outbreak of guilt, or remorse, or shame, or the sudden rediscovery of a moral compass, but because they realise the game is up and there’s nothing in it for them anymore. Some (Jenrick, Patel, Braverman) have been largely silent and/or invisible because they are busy plotting their post election-rout leadership bid. Others like Jenkyn have been shamelessly brown nosing Nigel Farage, and fantasising about their dream merger with Reform and a possible comeback for Johnson. Students of 1930s Germany might recall strange parallels with Von Papen, Hindenburg and Hitler. That didn’t end well for anyone. Others have gone on holiday (Baker), gone to the betting shop (Williams) or gone mad (Nadine Dorries, Liz Truss) Yes, I know Mad Nad is not standing, but it’s always good to remind everyone just how ghastly the last fourteen years have been. Johnson posted one troop-rallying video, looking like a man who had just returned from a treasonous Bunga Bunga party in a Russian Oligarch’s Italian mansion, security detail nowhere to be seen, having over indulged on everything he was offered: cocaine, call girls, state secrets. When nobody took any notice he clearly thought, “Fuck this for a game of soldiers, I’m off” and buggered off back to the Sardinian villa ( paid for, of course, by some other gullible rich bastard who hasn’t the wit to realise that Johnson currently has the establishment clout of Matt Hancock, is shagging his wife, and has left a steaming turd in the middle of the villa’s marble floor.)

Meanwhile, Rishi Sunak has just plain gone, being helicoptered in to factory after factory wearing yellow hi vis and a glassy fixed smile giving the same answer to every question: “bold action….no plan…no surrender…” The loyalty troops (James Cleverly, Mel Stride) in the party are  talking up the idea that losing but getting over a hundred seats would be an act of heroic, leadership brilliance, before preparing to shaft him on July 5th. “Et tu, Jimmy?” gasps Sunak as the knife strikes. It almost makes one nostalgic for Matt Hancock, who has been airbrushed from History. I sometimes wonder whether someone called Matt Hancock did actually exist, or whether I just keep having a recurring bad dream. It can’t be that though, because when I wake up, the reality is even worse.

It looks like the ever wonderful Channel 4 news’ undercover filming of the Reform racist members/ workers/volunteers might shoot Farage’s fox, or at least wound it so they take votes from Tories, but not too many. It’s impossible to overstate the importance of them not taking any seats and having a lower share of the vote than the Tories. It would be the icing on the cake if Farage were to fail in Clacton, but that remains a real risk. The undercover filming was like one of those mad bits of social research that pop up now and then. You know the sort of thing, a research project that concludes that school students in classes that suffer from poor behaviour tend to achieve less well academically. No shit, Sherlock. I’m sure it’s come as an earth shattering shock to most sentient UK electors, that people associated with the sexist, homophobic, racist Reform party, led by the sexist, racist and homophobic Nigel Farage, are, deep down, er, sexist, racist and homophobic. 

And yet, it still feels like squeaky bum time, regardless of what the polls say. What would be the perfect outcome, in Fantasy General Election land? 

1. A narrow Labour majority
2. Lib Dems as second largest party.
3. Greens having 4+ MPs
4. Tories below 100
5. Reform with 0
6. The last two items generate wider support for PR 
7. Starmer drops the mask, acts according to his centre left instincts, pushed by the Lib Dems, and jettisons the woeful policy positions taken up to appease the Daily Mail.

I am planning Election night, laying in a choice selection of fine wines and delicacies, having cleared my diary for the day after. I am determined to enjoy the evening because the cold-light reality of the next day will be depressing: a hangover, a Starmer-led Labour Government, with a shameful list of frit, populist policies and a weather forecast of rain. I’d like to think that, if the choice of 2024 General election songs was between Steely Dan, Change of the Guard (If you live in this world, you’re feeling the change of the guard”) of The Who, Fighting in the Streets (“Yeah, come meet the new boss, Same as the old boss”) then Steely Dan would win. But no, I fear The ‘Oo will triumph. Have a listen here and make your own mind up

But I suppose it could be worse. Biden or Trump, anyone?

Finally, just to remind you where all the hollowing out of British society started, have a look at my memories of the infamous 1979 election, and the day I broke the law in the struggle against fascism. Or Margaret Thatcher at any rate. Enjoy the night, comfort yourself with how much worse it would have been under the fascists, and get ready for disappointments ahead,

Back to the Future. Part 1:1979, Margaret Thatcher, and the end of Civilization

Stop Press! The last word to Rishi Sunak, who this morning trumpeted his opinion that life in Britain is much better now than it was in 2010. Clueless.