In spite of numerous attempts to bring me down to earth recently, I have remained a Quadruple Threat. This is at least fifty percent due to the confidence boosting affects of the song Shakespeare by Akala. (Not only does he pigeon- hole himself as a “much more handsome” reincarnation of Old Bill but also claims to be as “Smart as King Arthur”.) It’s fast approaching the top 25 most played songs list in i-tunes.
The other day I took a great deal of satisfaction in watching Britain’s most significant and memorable event of the past five years. Tottenham completing their fairy tale march to fourth place in the league left me with what Blur would call a sense of enormous well being. I was glued, motionless to the screen for the entire 90 minutes, only moving after each opportunity fizzed past the post which would prompt a fit of jumping around wildly shouting, sweating and swearing. After the final whistle I was compelled to sporadically wave my middle fingers in my housemate’s faces and suggest rather too loudly, that everyone was a wanker. It was all rather exciting and left me in need of a rest.
Luckily I had the General Election to bring my heart rate right down to a grinding halt. I often claim to be up on my politics but in truth my knowledge is adequate at best. As soon as anyone mentions the economy my eyes glaze over and I start thinking about what Megan Fox’s vagina looks like. However this time, I was genuinely interested in the outcome of the glorified popularity contest. It came as a huge disappointment when, at around four thirty in the morning Dimbleby, Paxman and Co. began to realize that nothing would be even remotely decided for the foreseeable future. I went to bed, disheartened. (I did just about manage to pull myself out of the pits of depression to have a group bath with my course mates and roll around on wheelie chairs smashing into people)
I always think it’s far too simple to slag off a politician, after all their easy targets. They tend to be fairly ugly, intelligent people, lacking in charisma or in other words, geeks. Let’s face it; if they were still at school they would be getting mercilessly bullied. Instead of being negative like everyone else and blabbing on about how they are “all as bad as each other.” I think we should be praising the fact that they are all equally competent. I mean, come on, Brown, Clegg and Cameron are as clean as a nun’s bedtime reading. I had no idea who to vote for really. The three parties had roughly the same idea of right and wrong and none of the candidates ever killed anyone so you might as well pick your favourite colour.
If only there was a scandal. We could find out Clegg traffics African women into the country and sells them to the mob as sex workers. At least then we would know who not to vote for. The biggest one was when Cameron was forced to admit he smoked a joint while he was at school.... Wow.
“Oh my god! Isn’t he that boy who got a Saturday detention for taking a Danish pastry from the canteen without paying?”
It’s not like he got caught with a belt tied around his bicep, needle in arm and a hooker giving him a blowie was it? They are only human. When I heard Cameron got caught with weed at school I couldn’t help but feel sorry for his 15 year old self. There was just an image in my mind of a chubby potato headed little wanker with tears rolling down his red cheeks, as he tried to convince the head teacher he was just trying to fit in. Do we want our politicians to live the most sheltered lives possible, perhaps we should grow them in cages? Poor old Brown too. He got verbally assaulted in the street by some angry old bitch with a chip on her shoulder and a look in her eye. All he did was suggest that she might be a bit of a pain in the arse. If only he’d of punched her and made the whole choice simpler.
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