My Labour candidate is called Alan De’ath. He’s an awkward looking gangly twerp, but that’s the political class. His leaflet was terrible and his photos worse, perhaps to demonstrate that he’s spending money on more consequential things. His campaign had so many delightful wordplays, all of which are absent – even from his bone dry Twitter feed. “Old and poor? Vote De’ath or get death.” “De’ath first.” “De’ath: Two parties. One word. What a difference an apostrophe makes.” “Vote De’ath for a better life.”
I’m not as well informed about the future economy and the secret intentions and capabilities of people I’ve not met as many people seem to be. I voted instinctively for the human being I disliked least, assisted by notions about the NHS and what I had found trustworthy from the vast swathe of reading material had been funneled to me by my echo chamber. Apparently both Corbyn and May will destroy this country in some way. May will sell the NHS to the devil and dance on old people’s graves, killing poor people with dead foxes and feeding ivory to Trump. Corbyn will force us to dig a tunnel to Syria with our bad teeth so his ISIS friends can take more than we earn from us and fertilise a magic money tree that will only get nuked by his IRA mates while he does and says nothing as he’s too busy deliberately ruining the economy and painting everything beige. That much is clear.
Voting itself was quick and easy. I was outnumbered by staff in the polling station in Chelsea. It’s a cricket pavilion. Of course.
I hope there were queues earlier but it was just me and three staff members when I went at half ten. I don’t really think anyone is happy with the political system but it’s the only one we’ve got for now and a voice in it, even a spoilt ballot, helps. But most people agree it doesn’t help very much. The system has been around so long it’s deeply entrenched. How do we overhaul it properly short of revolution, when so many jobs and expectations are on the line? I honestly dreamt I was part of an “electoral reform party” last night, with candidates in every constituency and a really smart proposal for how it would all work, and we won. I also dreamt I was skiing before an avalanche. I didn’t sleep well last night.
After voting I went to Factory Macbeth again. Good to have had the consistency of that positive group to glue together a week where work has been scarce. Something every day.
Now I’m heading home to let Tom into the flat. He’s my sofa guest tonight. He builds websites for high end jewellery brokers. We’re unlikely friends, but he’s stayed a few times and I always enjoy his company. The doors are still swinging from Charlotte last night, who came and filled the place with flowers. I’m going to cook ling and perhaps raise a post election glass of something. But I’m hoping for an early bed and no more dreams of avalanches and landslides.