The 7 Days Of Election Week
On the first day of election week I dreamt a dream at night? of studio lights and tiered seating? and an audience salivating violently through pointed teeth - each one more eager than the last to rouse their pack from tremulous, yet venomous, verbal threats to blood thirsty action? carried out carnally in the brightness of prime time.
A chubby Scotsman sat in a swivel chair and sweat; swivelling, seeking love - I cast my mind into the future (one wolf said he lacked charisma! Oh! You should have heard their laughter!) and saw an empty swivel chair in his dreams of Downing glory.
Kindly cheer of the defeated greeted Scotsman’s crestfallen exit and the pack’s howl turned more threatening as a googly eyed contestant took his place in Swivel Judgement. Agreed! They screamed! A Racist Googly Freak that they don’t need - not worth using to pick a leader’s meat from their teeth.
Swivelling out, he wasn’t quite done, someone should have told him that competitions aren’t always there to be won? poor, ugly, balding, googly eyed, pack rejected, conservative, racist, lying, manipulative, patronising, throaty swallowing, hand gesture clench from my nightmares sent Howardy heap pile thrown wretch.
I breathed in my sleep and prayed for redemption? when one sweaty loser is followed by a cruel eyed contestant, one hopes that the waves are not swelling as they do in my dreams oft recurring? enter the third and the lies like the tide of tsunami came flooding. I wake in a swivelling sweat - the howl of the crowd, I already forget.
On the fourth day of election week the widow of a British soldier killed in Iraq blames Tony Blair, the Tooth Fairy and Communism for her husband’s death.
What was he expecting when he joined up for the armed forces, out of interest? Only to be sent to just wars where he would gain a pendant with attached meaning for performing brave and bold acts of daring like those in the pre-movie adverts for the Navy, Army and Air Force? Or the Holloywood films that follow thereafter?
Wll, sorry, son, but there ain’t been a just war ’round these parts in nigh on sixty year.
And that his bereaved blames Blair in election week means what exactly? Googly Eyes has said that he would have gone to war as well. Let’s see if this (finally!) tips the scales right on over and into the LibDem’s lap… will it my arse… unjust wars are fought by unjust governments elected through unjust systems of election voted for by a mumbling public who are better off sent to unjust wars to die.
Here’s a tip gang: if you don’t want your husband to die in an unjust war… don’t marry a fuckwit.
BBC News 24 has become BBC Election 24. I’ve just been watching Tony Blair traveling around the country in what appears to be his own private audience. He has a great joke: On the Tories, he asks “Are you remembering what we’re remembering?” Whoever wrote that deserves a pat on their back. Mr. Blair is obviously in his element in the (intolerably dull) last hours of party propagandizing, and even though we should be wondering why he took a country into an illegal war without the support of the people (what is the definition of a war crime?), he sure can deliver that joke.
On the sixth day of election week I pondered…
am i remembering what you’re remembering? no
i once tried thinking what you were thinking, though
should I fight for the fight (the war) you want to wage
or rant against your rant and try to change your ways
forgetting what you’re forgetting I’ll not attempt
i’ll not be voting for what you are voting for friend
your repetition may inspire my repitition
but i hope against hope that you won’t rule this nation