Bollotics.

We are, in case you hadn’t noticed, all drifting towards the inevitable doom of a domestic political oblivion. It’s true. I’d say don’t worry about it too much, but it might be an idea to keep one eye open when you sleep, just in case the mucky fallout from all this incompetence washes up directly at your front door. This is leadership (which is far too generous a word) gone wrong and ambition gone all smelly and damp, and wouldn’t it be better if we just throw it out and get a new one? Well of course we could throw it out, but if we then go on a popular express-delivery replacement politician website and order a new one I think you’ll find that will be smelly and damp as well. And the one after that. And after that the replacement will be broken in two or smaller than you expected or might not even turn up; partly thanks to Royal Mail deciding that in order to streamline their business model in a modern competitive market they’ve decided not to deliver anything at all, except for on days when all their staff are on strike.

My point, in case you were still struggling, is that there are no good politicians left anymore. There never were that many to start with but now we are in such a biblical drought of talent that even Sir Bob Geldof couldn’t fix it with another star studded, back slapping charity concert. Even if he opened with Generic Featureless Rapper ft DJ BlowHard & Queezy Ryder. The thing that people used to say about mediocre politicians a few years ago (“but they’re alright, aren’t they?” or “well, they’re better than that other lot, aren’t they?”) can’t even be applied. There is no mediocre. There is no such thing as intermittently competent either. The scale starts with dirty toilet water and plummets downhill from there; downhill, though sadly not downwind. And this is the political crucible that we find ourselves watching every day. The same crucible that will take us through an imminent London Mayoral election, a farcical search for a new leader of the SNP and, even sooner than uncomfortably soon, a general election, the outcome of which seems to be fairly predictable but very likely no more palatable than what we already have to swallow. Take a deep breath.

The London Mayoral election is hitting us first. Strangely, for a city mayoral election it seems to have a much broader media coverage than to merely the area contained within the M25. Perhaps that’s because we keep being told about the north/south divide and the pathetic attempt to address this by appointing someone to the most depressing and redundant cabinet job there is: Minister for Levelling Up. Perhaps it’s because we must be seen to be inclusive and because what happens in London doesn’t always stay in London. Perhaps I don’t care. I live just inside the M25 and I don’t really care who is the next Mayor of London, provided it is neither the current mayor nor any of the other candidates, who together form a calamitous gallery of delusion that frankly insults the very essence of London as a global metropolis. London, precisely because it is a global metropolis, is swamped with all kinds of problems: poverty, knife crime, prostitution, drugs, corruption and now, the one hurdle that even Batman would struggle to clear – ULEZ. To think the next mayor could be chosen based on a traffic calming policy is almost the saddest thing ever. Almost.

Further up north than regular up north we find Scotland in turmoil, again. The seedy power vacuum that was left in very shady style by the seemingly incorruptible Nicola Sturgeon and her portly, double shady with a rotten scotch bonnet on top husband was filled by Scotland’s least likely to win the most-traditional-Scottish-Scotsman-of-the-year award: Humza Yousaf. It was never, ever going to work out for poor Humza, who inherited a rickety throne and a legacy of attempted Scottish Independence that had picked up momentum over time but by 2023 had all the pace and vigour of a 63 year old smack addict from Inverness trying to evade a pack of police Alsatians across uneven terrain. Mr Yousaf was very likely the least bad of a bad bunch, but he did himself no favours when he ditched the Green Party without fully appreciating (and this takes some doing) that in doing so his political majority would be instantly rendered to nothing. To his credit he had enough pride to not beg Alex Salmond for help and just as everyone started to speculate when, rather than if, he was going to jack it all in, he jacked it all in. So, Scotland will have to go back to the drawing board, but that’s good because like ‘em or not it’s somehow better to stand and fail with the Scots than watch them flap about trying to build a world-class economy based on shortbread and heart disease.

And finally, a grim, soiled denouement to what is becoming just another filthy year in politics looks set with a general election that no-one with any sense really wants to vote in. Tories are being expected to vote for a weak, ineffective Prime Minister and a deeply divided party (the media describe them as ‘divided’ but what they mean is infantile, selfish and stubbornly, laughably, self-destructively moronic) or instead throw in their lot with any of the opponents that aren’t Labour. Labour voters know that they are going to win, but only by voting for a man with all the charisma of a grain of rice (but who, in fairness, is no less charismatic than the man he is destined to replace) and his gobby northern windsock of a deputy. Left to the side, wondering what on earth they have to do to get a noticeable fingerhold on the sheer cliff face of popularity, are all the other parties, most of whom would sooner get rid of all traces of migration dating back to 1066 or literally wrap everyone in cotton wool and offer free gender realignment at a time of their choosing. This is obviously a sweeping generalisation but when the country you live in and the union you vote for has no possible positive political future worth looking forward to then it doesn’t really matter. We went to the dogs years ago. Now we’re coming out the other end and results aren’t looking too pretty.

G B Burton. 02.05.2024