Noel’s Election Twenty-Ten Drillbit Part Three
Posted by Noel Oxford | May 5, 2010 | Comments Off
With only hours to go before polls open, CMF endorses its pick for the 2010 election.
It seemed so sweet, didn’t it? The possibility of a profound change lay thick on the air like sweet arson smoke as, for the first time in a generation, the Lib Dems became Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition. Nick Clegg might have been a clockwork used car salesman with a stretched piece of 8-track tape for a voice-box, but his rosette was a fucking totally different colour. I mean it. Check it out on Lycos.
But two weeks is a long time, not only in politics, but everywhere. Imagine if you went for a wee and it took two weeks. Imagine if it took two weeks to get to the Moon. Now, Clegg’s Merry Marauders, as I don’t especially like to call them, have slumped to a dismal joint second in the polls and look remarkably like a bouncy castle/stiletto heel incident.
Cleggbamamania seems sunk. The dream is dead, and all is blue, middle class ashes. And this time, there is no get out jail free card. The fierce urgency of now has become the farce lethargy of never. Britain is to be denied her moment, and Nick Clegg consigned, intermittently, to the spam filter of history’s Hotmail. Not even the endorsement of the mighty Guardian herself can hold back this tide of blue emulsion.
The novelty wore off, folks. The electorate got sick of its AT-AT and flung it down the stairs, irremediably shattering its dreams, and those of every benighted fool who had room in their bellies – and their hearts – for a bit of devilled Clegg. And so it’s with a deep, inconsolable ennui, that I must announce my last-ditch plan to get the Lib Dems back in the race where they belong.
If the outcome of tomorrow’s ballot is anything but an historical Liberal Democrat landslide, sweeping Nicholas ‘Nicholas William Peter “Nick” Clegg’ Clegg to Number Ten, atop an overall, commanding majority, then I will literally kill myself live on blog.tv on Friday night.
And I know very well that it won’t make a blind bit of difference even if he does win. Look at the callous way Barack Obama has taken the hopes of his naive countrymen, used his colossal mandate to lube them up, then rolled them into a cylinder, and fed them slowly up his backside. But at least he hasn’t fired them back out again in a shower of faecal horror. Yet.
That’s the best outcome you can hope for, Britain. Vote well. Vote hard. Don’t make me do it.