37 Vote Early, Vote Often
Hello Lovelies. Let’s face it, you haven’t missed this so I’ll just get on…
It’s here then; the day you get to decide what kind of country you want to live in.
I’m not going to say how I’m voting. It’s not important, and frankly if you need my advice on who to vote for we really are fucked. What’s important though is that if you can, you do make the effort, even in a safe seat.
Why? Well even if you live in a seat where the incumbent won with a 5 figure majority, voting for the party you want can make them wary. If majorities are whittled down from say 11,000 to 6,000 by previously reticent voters at least letting them know they’re as not secure as they think. At the moment they have absolutely no incentive to be any good because they think they don’t have to try. Plus, if you’re really lucky, you get to see the smile wiped off the face of a smug wanker like Portillo.
The upshot is disinterested, incompetent, lazy people pretending to represent you, and you deserve more.
If they have some competition they might just get round to being your MP rather than simply lining their pockets, furthering their own career, or both.
Also, the reason pensions are always well up the electoral agenda, and student finances aren’t, is very simple. One group votes, the other doesn’t. Nick Clegg was perfectly comfortable stitching young people up with tuition fees because the old people who will decide his fate today don’t give a tuppenny fuck about how much it costs to go to university.
And don’t vote tactically. If your party is unlikely to win vote for them anyway. Helping a party you don’t believe in to stop one you hate will give you no satisfaction at all. If you support Tottenham are you going to enjoy cheering on Chelsea because it stops Arsenal winning the league? Really? Exactly. Vote FOR something, not AGAINST. It really feels better.
Finally, the world is full of people who aren’t allowed to vote. They get shot in the face for going to school, or driving a car, or get thrown from a tower for being in love with the wrong person. They’d give their eye teeth to be able to shape the future of their their country. They certainly wouldn’t let a detour of ten minutes to a local school on their way home from work put them off…
Go on, express yourself.
So I’m whiling away a nice Saturday afternoon. Bit of racing, pottering around the house, quick browse on Twitter, when I see a tweet that piqued my interest.
It was a snidey little post stating that Greville Janner, dementia riddled peer strongly suspected (more than strongly really) of child abuse had been seen going into certain flats in the years he is supposed to have been an active predator.
Now although he has evaded justice due to being too ill to stand trial such evidence would be interesting to anyone looking to look into some kind of pattern of behaviour or identify the networks that such people move in, and how they manage to evade detection and operate in plain sight for so long.
I would argue though, and I did, that it might be best given to some kind of actual authority, rather than just slithered out into cyberspace to allow self-appointed Noncefinder Generals to nod sagely and slap themselves on the back for being right about him.
Well fuck me if it didn’t go Radio Rental.
A bunch of self-righteous berks decided that I was some kind of kiddy fiddling stooge spreading disinformation and shooting down their theories. I was retweeted, favourited, and also immediately blocked by a crowd who I can only assume have never had their mission questioned.
“Are you pro Janner?” asked one of the more mentally agile of them, and to be fair he had me stumped… that a question so ludicrous could be allowed to infect anyone’s timeline, and that he actually expected an answer.
I countered by pointing out that while they were pumping out cowardly shite about a man who would never face justice an adult was systematically and totally ruining a young life. Someone who was active NOW and would find it much harder than Cyril Smith or Leon Brittan to avoid their day in court by virtue of being alive and compos mentis.
This was too much for them. By now I was defending child rape. Honest to God, if I wasn’t laughing so hard I would have cried. They had clearly spent years yodelling down the well of the internet and were so used to having their drivel pass around without question that asking what they were doing and why was tantamount to condoning it.
Look at it this way, if you knew of a children’s hospital that Jimmy Saville, who is still being investigated to find out how far his vile web extended, had frequented would you take it to the people writing the report, or spew it to your followers like some kind of curtain twitching cut price Colombo?
“Rolf Harris walked past a school and looked in the playground in 1978!!!!” Well done. I’d better not tell them about the times I’ve changed my niece’s nappy, or they’d have the pitchforks and flaming torches marching towards me quick smart. Any Paediatricians living near them must have been fucking bricking it.
Tinfoil hats off to them. Hours of fun, and a great peep into their delusions.
As a contrast, on Monday a vine was doing the rounds of America’s Next Gay Owl, featuring one of our feathered friends doing a wonderful runway walk and look over left shoulder. Well, it made me laugh anyway. Look it up, it’s brilliant.
Proof, if ever it were needed, that the internet giveth, and the internet taketh away.
Now, back to work drones…