There’s an election going on. And remarkably it doesn’t involve Tony Blair. Thank God. That Trimdon speech out-did even a Serbian Eurovision winner for sheer feigned emoting.
No, these elections are local to here. And I can’t avoid them. This fucking poster turned up on the telegraph post outside my house a couple of days back. It shows a rogue’s gallery of various worthies (let’s give them the benefit of the doubt) all shot in a field, which is probably what should happen to most politicians.
The poster belongs to the PP (Conservatives to you and me). Last time there was an election, a group of PPers turned up at the gate and attempted to engage me in conversation. The foreign vote was very important, they said. Maybe it is. But I don’t vote for any of them. Not through apathy, but because there is no real attempt to engage “foreigners” in the local political process. Well, none that I am aware of, at any rate.
But if a similar group pitches up this time, what I want to know most is what they plan to do about the weeds growing in the road. Those nice green weeds heading skyward towards a poster of politicians in a field.
And just by the bye. As some acute regular readers of this blog will know, I publish local guides. I was at my printers yesterday. The print shop was full of posters for this and that politician. Printers are log-jammed at this time of year, what with getting menus, cards, maps, guides etc all done. Into this mix come the PP and PSOE and the rest. Brilliant timing.
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