Shock Poll Predicts Outrage

I refuse to get my hopes up (I have to watch them extremely closely otherwise they’ll creep inexorably skywards only to be dashed when the inevitable happens. But what if? Stop it Martin, if politics has taught you anything throughout the entirety of your voting life it’s that you aren’t going to get what you want nor even what you need in spite of widely held wisdom). Polls have been so spectacularly wrong that when one comes out that you like your first instinct is to suspect a hoax.

How dare the election be so headline grabbing? Why can’t we just get on with life? And by life I do of course mean furiously rocking back and forth in the corner of accommodation we can’t actually afford as society crumbles around us. In the last week and a half before the election-ageddon events are clearly ramping up. Jeremy Corbyn has even signed up to appear in a televised debate. Theresa is going to be hiding away from the commoners as usual.

If the votes of the past couple of years are anything to go by, around half of the electorate is going to be disappointment by the outcome. This is one of the problems of abiding by the option with the most votes rather than an outright majority (we really don’t have time to get into this right now) – at least when it comes to representation. Another issue is that not enough people are voting (I will keep shouting this from the virtual rooftops until I’m blue in the face – I’m already approaching a startling shade of maroon).

Of course there’s going to be dashed hopes lying about. Such disillusionment is incredibly likely to lead to rage and some out there aren’t great at controlling their impulses. If everyone was as saintly and restrained as I am they’d mollify themselves by whining about it on the internet. Just imagine if there’s a hung parliament and Theresa starts unleashing her unexpectedly weakened hand on an unsuspecting public. Nope, I’m not going to indulge in that particular daydream because I know it’s just not happening (I’d be more than happy to have to stand corrected. Come on people, prove me wrong. Please).

Cop Hunt for Corbyn Ducks

Over the past couple of years (so strange to think that he was an almost complete unknown before being thrust into power in 2015. Perhaps it’s a sign that we ought to remain hopeful. People can work conscientiously for decades and eventually ascend to a platform in line with their relevant work experience and fervour for the job rather than power itself. Either that or I’m romanticising in the face of bleakness and divorcing my world view from reality. It’s a better bubble to exist in though), we’ve been treated to a few bits and pieces regarding the inner life of Corbyn the man.

He makes jam and enjoys spending time on his allotment. However, did you also know that he is a fastidious keeper of ducks? He sounds more like the rector of a quiet country parish than a London based member of parliament let alone a modern potential Prime Minister. Then again, all I really know about Theresa (mainly because I haven’t been paying all that much attention) and her personal life is who takes the bins out (and even then I’m not entirely sure which of them said they did it, I merely know that it came up in an interview with Mrs May and her husband). What one does in the comfort of their own home probably doesn’t have all that much bearing on their professional life. Unless it’s serial killing.

Anyway, Jeremy was out late at a campaign rally or it might have been yet another media appearance. He’d been in such a rush in the morning that for the rest of the day he couldn’t be sure as to whether or not properly secured the duck house (or wherever his avian friends live). He could have sent an aide to check but it simply didn’t seem proper. Once it had been established that the ducks had indeed got out though, that was a whole different ball game. Jeremy was more than happy to enlist the help of the police in rounding up his errant flock of quackers.

Power to Ban BA Chaos

The government really hasn’t been doing enough to flex its authoritarian muscles of late. Seriously though, what on earth is the whole point of being in charge if you’re not willing to abuse your position every now and then? Nine times out of ten when it comes to this variety of situation going down it’ll be some brand of self serving nonsense related to personal vendettas or randomly trying to promote junk you like. Approximately ten per cent of the time though, something halfway to kind of alright occurs.

I’m afraid I can’t tell you the particular story I was thinking of. Not because it’s totally made up but rather more down to the fact that it involves the bribery of an official, a little smidgen of nepotism and an enduring grudge against a slice of life most people wouldn’t honestly consider to be a problem. I did get my way in the end though.

Anyway, let’s move away from my supposed misdeeds and into the ever so slightly less murky waters of getting problems sorted. Something bad and genuinely contributing to public harm? Ban it. No sweat, once people know that it’s no longer permitted they’ll both not want to do it anymore or even feel the urge to participate in whatever activity it is. What about if you simply generally disapprove of something for ill defined reasons? Ban that too.

This is the thinking that has lead the Ministry of Transport (or whoever. They had official forms and headed notepaper so it was definitely all above board) to the conclusion that it should ban this BA chaos and all that chicanery. If non-service has been downright outlawed then even if the computers are on actual fire then the support staff will just have to work that much harder to find a workaround because anything else has been banned. End of.

Nervous Tories to Deal With the EU

Even her closest aides are starting to worry about her. In fact, given that they spend so much time with her they have more cause for concern than most. She isolates herself and has become completely obsessed with the pursuit of power.

One advisor, who has since been sworn to complete and utter secrecy (I, however am highly persuasive and was able to coax the story out of them with coquettishness and a heroic amount of alcohol) was accidentally privy to the sight of Mrs May prancing about in a cloak designed to be a replica of the Queen’s. It was rather disturbing, sure, but not as unsettling as the notion that she’s going to take these delusions of grandeur further into the public sphere. She’s determined to have a reign more glorious than any other previous Prime Minister.

It is for these reasons and others (not even a full bottle of vodka was enough to get them to spill certain secrets. She has properly dug the boot in to the point that people are really rather scared), that said trusted political allies may have ever so slightly gone totally behind Theresa’s back. Their plan was to sketch out a few rough draft trade deals with the EU in preparation for the actual negotiations later in the year. This would ensure an easy win for the lady Prime Ministeress and secure a glorious legacy for her.

The real truth is that all the rhetoric has gone to her head and those close to her don’t trust that she can get the stuff she’s promising done. Also, it’s actually the case that she won’t be the one at the table and as unstable as Theresa’s showing herself to be, Boris is very much the same and then some. If the groundwork isn’t done for him who knows what farcical nonsense he’ll walk out with?

Go Out and Enjoy Election With Attack on Corbyn

One of the biggest problems with the whole election cycle nowadays is that it’s all really rather doom and gloom. We’re forced to consider in lurid detail precisely how the country is going to dogs under the current administration or how it would definitely descend to the depths of hell were their bitter rivals allowed to have a go at cracking the whip.

It’s unclear as to whether or not Donald Trump kicked off this whole trend or merely perpetrated it. However, it’s clear that it’s an attitude that’s around to stay if we don’t do something or other about it. One of the problems of using fear as a motivator when it comes to attempting to get people to vote is that it’s all too easy for the mood to tip over into apathetic depression. Once you’ve hit emotional rock bottom you’re not going to care too much either way regarding who’s in charge.

Luckily, spin doctors and election consultants have at long last realised that it’s time and past for just a little injection of joy. Now, this is hardly going to come from the fulfilment of campaign pledges so the fun is going to have to come from a different source. Therefore, in a melding of the need for lightness and the new old climate of opponent bashing a delightful event has hatched.

I mean, who hasn’t daydreamed about the excellent exercise in ridiculousness that is a leaders debate performed through the medium of a rap battle? This is the real reason why Theresa and Jeremy couldn’t bring themselves to participate in the lacklustre effort on ITV. They were far too busy practicing their mad rhymes ahead of the epic throw down that at this moment in time is just around the corner. Brace yourselves and take a moment to indulge in a smile.

Bank Holiday ‘Very Wicked’

How dare people even contemplate the notion of state sponsored time off? To lay down one’s tools (or more increasingly, abandon the keyboard in favour of more frivolous pursuits) for leisure time is an affront to modern society in general. Of course, there will be those who trot out those tired old excuses that bank holidays mean time spent shopping and in various tourist destinations which in turn stimulates the economy. But that’s nonsense. The only way that we’ll make our way out of the black hole of austerity is with noses ground all the way down to nubs courtesy of grindstones.

So if you’re so much as considering a trip to the seaside, time spent on home improvements or anything of that sort you really ought to be branded as an enemy of the state (my own personal plans of using the weekend to host my other half’s parents and then indulging on some downtime on Monday is obviously especially heinous. We may even go to a National Trust property, how heinous). Forget about terrorist planning to blow their fellow humans to kingdom come or hackers fleecing poor computer users for all they’ve got, you’re the literal worst.

If those squares at your current workplace insist on shutting up shop (although, shops stay open so that was probably a poor choice in wording. I pointed it out though, so it becomes a post-modern observation. Excellent, and clever to boot), you could always use your time in taking up a second job at short notice. Work those fingers to the bone and perhaps your children, or if not your children’s children,, will be able to afford that beautiful sustaining gruel they’ve been hearing so much about of late. If you relax for so much as a single solitary minute though you’re basically guaranteeing a nosedive in the value of the pound.

May to Confront Bomb Maker

She’s been working on her disapproving face for some time now. You really don’t want to put yourself in a position wherein it will be turned on you, it’s far more devastating than a death sentence (it’s hardly as if one of those is going to deter a suicide bomber anyway). The Prime Minister will fix you with an icy glare that will seemingly fix you in place and, just when you think it can’t possibly get any worse, begin to purse her lips. Then potentially slap you with a crippling fine or a prison sentence. But the look will be worse.

In a time when the leader of the government is basically just a figurehead (even more so than the Queen put in place by that whole hereditary monarchy nonsense) they have to have something to do. I mean really, the economy pretty much looks after itself and we have more than enough laws to keep us going for the foreseeable future. It makes total sense for the nominal leader in charge of a first world nation to turn to the deliciously tempting world of crime fighting.

For a random example, if you told Donald Trump that he could forget all about this foreign trips nonsense where he has to spend time in buildings that don’t bear his name (the gold medals don’t quite make up for the inconvenience), don a leather jacket and drive around beating up criminals he’d jump at the chance. Melania wouldn’t dare bat his hand away if it was dripping in the blood of all those violent illegal immigrants he’s determined to rid his country of. You’d certainly get a wider demographic of people putting themselves up for the top job of heading a nation if they knew it wasn’t going to be irritatingly desk and diplomacy based. Watch out ne’er-do-wells, Theresa’s coming for you.