ANGRY BIRD

Our resident ranter Michelle Harris takes a political stand

A month to go till the election, and I am already so frigging sick to the back teeth of the coverage that I could headbutt a table in the manner of the astute six-year-old who got bored to desperation by Cameron. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was policy-based, informative or relevant, but it is pan-party bullshit, biassed, petty point-scoring propaganda and competitive photo-opping. Only fuckwits will fall for it, and they’ll all probably vote UKIP anyway. The whole thing is tedious to the point that a violent headdesk would be a sweet, sweet release. If you decide which party to vote for on the basis of which Leader is closest mates with Joey Essex, you deserve to have your voting rights taken away, let’s be honest.

Nigel Farage. He is a cock. I do not care about his “interesting” choice of coat. It is ugly. He is ugly. But even if he wasn’t, he would still be a cock. His party encourages discrimination against women in the workplace, they have dodgy victim-blaming views on rape, and Nigel himself thinks breastfeeding women should “sit in the corner”. Apparently though, the female voters should conveniently forget all this as he dangles tax-free tampons in our direction. Jog on Nigel, you biggotted chauvinistic joke. All the Monty Python quotes in the world can’t save you. Period.

The Cameron campaign nonsense-news is a mixed bag to be honest. He feeds lambs but cuts benefits. He proves he is a man of the people by doing an interview with Heat, and then fucks it all up by being photographed eating a hotdog with a knife and fork. His wife decides spontaneously and of course, without any supplementary agenda whatsoever, that now is the time to open up to the press about the sad loss of their disabled son, and we’re all meant to forget that Cameron has made the disabled and needy bear the brunt of his party’s austerity measures. Poor Sam Cam is wheeled out to parade her grief at an expedient juncture so we do not notice that the Conservative government don’t give a shit about disabled children, actually.

Miliband. Ah, Miliband, you unfortunately plasticine-faced disappointment. Why oh why did you stand forlornly in that rubbish kitchen? Why can you not eat a bacon sandwich like a normal man? And why why why did you allow your wife to disclose details about your ‘tangled’ pre-marital sex life? It is beyond me to contemplate the idea behind this as a vote-securing exercise. I’d prefer to imagine Ed as a Ken-doll-smooth Aardman creation, really, should my thoughts be forcibly dragged to his genital area. I suspect it is a move towards making him seem like he has a personality. I don’t actually care if he has a personality; I just want him and his party to endevour to drag us out of the mess we find ourselves in. And the fact his willy might have got wet more than once is neither here nor there, excuse my bluntness.

I could go on. I won’t, because it is all too bloody depressing. We still have almost a month of this. Carry on in this vein and we’ll all be too embarrassed to vote for any of them. Don’t they realise that the discerning voter just wants clarity? That we do not give a rat’s bollock about photos of them baby-holding so long as they do their fucking jobs? I do not care how they eat, or have sex, or who their celebrity buddies are. I want to know their plans for education and the NHS, for the impoverished, the deprived, the super-rich and the under-taxed. Call me crazy, and boring and simplistic; I care about these things. I just wish the vote-grabbing weirdos were as bothered as I am.