Were I in a particularly satirical mood (when am I not? I mean really, I’m terribly witty. You’ll all noticed it but are simply too shy and retiring to come out with the fact that I constantly outshine all those around me with my comedic brilliance. It’s alright though, we all know that you were thinking it very loudly indeed and that’s more than enough) I would say that we’re already living in a kakistocracy. You might think that’s terribly unfair of me to accuse the current government of being made up of the worst rulers possible. Then again, Nick Clegg. Need I say more? But maybe you’re a staunch Tory supporter and wish to stand by the glowing track record of Etonian prime ministers. You and I may well have issues if that is the case.
The unfortunate thing about the definition of kakistocracy that I’ve been able to unearth is that it’s disappointingly vague. The worst what precisely? The most ill suited to the role? The ones with the lowest amount of remotely relevant experience for the job? Those who are most resistant to the mantle of governorship? The most devious, unscrupulous bastards who should never be trusted with the merest scrap or shred of power in any shape or form? Essentially, is a kakistocracy a collective of super villains seizing the reins of authority with little to no prior warning? Because if it is that might not turn out to be the very worst thing ever. It could be the very thing to coax Batman out of the woodwork (I’m not exactly his biggest fan but there are many people out there who seem to go nuts over him).
One thing is for absolute certain, a kakistocracy would provide the British public with something that it truly needs: something legitimate to complain about. I’m considering running a campaign for the BNP (oh dear, that made me shudder. Even in jest that really isn’t a prospect worth contemplating).