When I Am Prime Minister

I will...

1. Be able to spell Prime Minister on the first attempt
2. Be able to answer a question directly
3. Think if stuff that’s going on outside London
4. Only go to war if I really, really need to and not just because I'm bored
5. Stop letting America boss us about
6. Stop pissing about with ‘cigarette tax’ and just ban them (might be unpopular)

I will not…

1. Fiddle expenses
2. Use tax money to throw big parties
3. Build a big train from London to Birmingham un less I have made Birmingham much nicer
4. I will not make Birmingham much nicer
5. Give any extra money to other MPs just because we’re BFFs
6. Spill soup on any important documents, even if they’re bad (or leave them on trains)

Laws I shall make:

1. Any MP heard making an offensive remark shall get an egg thrown at them to show the physical manifestation of the metaphorical egg on their face.
2. Dress down Friday
3. If MPs must have a second home, they are regulated to a very small flat in Croydon
4. Crimes to be rated on a ‘naughtiness scale’ to decide punishment (not believing that I’m going to be Prime Minister is a 3)
5.  The mayor of London is not allowed to be better than me

Please vote for me

Chancellor Of The Exchequer? I Hardly Know Her!

I think it’s very, very important to make fun of politicians. Very important. In the age of the career politician, they seem to have become this slightly inhuman creature, wriggling their fingers and cackling together in corners.  They come either at Mr Burns, from The Simpsons, or kids in the playground, having a squabble.  “Yes, I know the economy has gone to shit, BUT LABOR STARTED IT.” And when you look at it that way, it’s really hard to not make fun of them. I don’t think we really acknowledge just how much power these men (yes, men. In the UK the ratio of male to female politicians is alarming, but that’s another story for another time) is utterly terrifying. They can have power over our jobs, our houses, who we can marry, if we’re allowed to leave or re-enter the country. I recently finished reading ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’, by Margret Atwood. I had to hide under my bed for most of it. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you do, and then I suggest you cry.

I like making fun of politicians. It briefly brings some of the power back to us. George Osborne may take benefits away from the disabled, but ahahahaha, he looks like a confused six year old. I want to do that thing where you pinch his cheeks and wibble his face. I have nick-named him Puppy, much to the annoyance of my family – who like watching the news in the evening.

Recently the news came out that Nick Clegg would like to carry on the coalition after the next election. Of course he would, he’d miss cuddle time with David Cameron. 

I’m not even going to start on Ed Balls. I’ll let you fill in your own jokes there.

How To Politics.

Fun fact: I can vote. This is both excellent and also alarming. Excellent because it means I live in a democratic society (cool) and that I have a (small) say in how my country is run (also cool). It's alarming because until about two years ago I had less than no idea about what a politic was (not a typo for once). But then I decided to try and understand whatever the hell is going on, and now I can make a half decent joke about Vince Cable, and know when to make sad sounding noises when someone's talking about NHS reform. Here is a handy guide:

1. Get a newspaper. I don't care which one, also the Daily Mail isn't doing you any favors. The Guardian, Independent and Telegraph all work well. Now read it. Read all the bits that have long words and percentage symbols in. Read all the bits next to photos of nervous cabinet members and angry nurses/teachers/builders. Then read it again. Read it until you can accurately guess the meanings of the long words from the context. 
2. Watch BBC news. Get some cake and a cup of tea, put the news on and watch it until you're so cross you have to get more cake. Repeat until there is no cake left, or your waistline is three times that size it was when you stared.
3. Open two browser tabs. In one, pull up a photo of a politician. I recommend starting with Boris Johnson because he's easiest. In the second tab, pull up a photo of your worst fear. It could be a spider, or a big height, or your grandmothers idea of lunch. Whatever works best for you. Now look at Boris for ten seconds. Now look at your worst fear for ten seconds. Repeat until the sight of Boris strikes a cold, icy blade of fear into your heart. Do the same for David Cameron, Nick Clegg, ect. ect. When you run out of politicians, google some more.
4. Realize the key to understanding politics is repetition. Remember you're lazy, and give up. However by this point at least some of it should have sunk in a little bit. 

Best of luck.

Sorry For My Personal Beliefs

As unlikely as this may seem, I’ve finally realized just how annoying I actually am. I’m a stereotype-y sort of way. I’ve always know I was vaguely annoying, but the other night, when I was lying awake in bed, it finally hit me. I’m a liberal, political, vegetarian, Guardian-reading, lesbian English student. That’s… wow. You do not want me at your dinner party. Plus, I don’t believe in the beauty standard, which means that I don’t shave my legs. The fact that I don’t wear tie dye is honestly beyond me. But that’s probably just because most of my innards are glitter and gin.

In my defense, I make an active effort not to try and convince meat eaters that they need to turn vegetarian.  I think that would be very hypocritical of my considering how shouty I get when anyone tries to make me believe in god.

I’m more or less a walking demographic for Radio 4. I imagine in twenty years or so, they will start using me in advertising campaigns. That’s if I carry on being a lefty stereotype. It might turn out to be just a ‘phase’ and when I’m old I’ll sit and make jokes about how I was always ‘that kid’. What am I saying, it’s happening now and I’m making those jokes. I’ve also started dressing in clothes that are worryingly close to the Dyke Uniform. I am a dyke, which means that I get to use words like that, and no one shouts at me. It’s like a gay bonus. Other gay bonuses include; not having to pay loads of money to get my nails done, being allowed to wear jeans in summer, not having to spend ages on my straight-girl hair, and it being socially acceptable for me to sit in the corner at parties with a lot of wine. Straight people bonuses include things like; not being socially and politically persecuted throughout global history.

I wrote that joke at 1am last week, and now it makes me sad. Someone go tell the House of Lords to hurry up and legalise gay marriage already.

Jumping On The... Horse And Cart

In January, some scientists found some horse in a burger. I had a very strong initial response to this, and it was one of AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

See, I'm a vegetarian, and while I'm not the sort to go around slapping people eating KFC, screaming "YOU BASTARD, THINK OF HOW MANY CHICKENS YOU'RE IMPRISONING  TORTURING AND MURDERING. THEY HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW!!1!", I do feel a little bit smug. 

It's not so much that I think people who eat meat are 'finally getting what they deserve', as such, it's more that  sort of smugness that crops up when something bad happens to people who aren't you. I sat in a corner with my salad, and cackled as the media descended into an infernal outrage.

Which I think was the best bit about, what Wikipedia has dubbed, the 2013 Meat Adulteration Scandal. The press treated it as if the manufacturers were playing a nation wide game of Russian Roulette, by sneakily sprinkling horse into one burger out of every ten, and that the only conclusion was that everyone would somehow be horribly poisoned. They had to call in 'top scientists' (the majority of which were students with lab coats) to reassure all England that there was not actually enough horse meat in anything that could be in anyway harmful. None of the horses that had accidently been dropped into the mincer contained drugs, and everyone was going to be totally fine, honest, cross our hearts and hope to die.

The only problem was, that for once, no one actually needed reassuring. The entire population, as a whole, seemed to just shrug and go "Well, these things happen.", before carrying on moaning about the weather, and slagging off Micheal Gove. The only food that contained horse was, and is, dirt cheap. The people who were actually eating it quietly agreed that they probably should have seen it coming, and looked a bit sad. Everyone in the middle class tutted, in a "As if we'd shop at Tesco's" sort of way, and went back to staring at the free range washing powder in Waitrose. 

And I think everyone knows that the upper class has been nibbling on polo pony on cracker for decades. They're not called Hor(se) d'ourves for nothing.

The other thing that surprised me was the we were all very rational about the whole thing. Everyone seemed to recall the fact that, just because we are not culturally inclined to eat horse, doesn't mean that others aren't, and it isn't necessarily all that unethical. We don't make a habit out of it, but we made a habit of eating cow. 

So, y'know, thanks a lot British press. It's time to move on now.

Dear The Tories, We Don't Burn Protestants Any More

So, roughly three minutes ago, I watched a report on the news about how parliament will vote on whether or not gay people will be 'allowed' to get married. Ah, those crazy gays. They'll want the vote next.
So, apparently, a lot of Tories are getting very upset, and refusing to support this idea, or even leaving the party,  because they think that supporting gay marriage will make them loose the next election, as it goes against the "public's view of the institution or marriage". (Isn't that a horrible term? Institution or marriage? Makes it sound like a hospital mad house. Not that I'm insinuating anything.) CLEARLY IT DOES NOT. The Yougov poll in December found that 55% of British people support same-sex marriage. If you're like me, and terrible at maths, then that's more than half. That's the MAJORITY. HOW DOES THAT NOT TELL YOU ANYTHING? According to one Tory party member, the 'institution of marriage' (ugh) is the "union between a man and a woman, who will hopefully go on to raise children". 
Which kind of makes me want to drill into my skull.
IT IS NOT THE 1800'S ANY MORE. I genuinely don't understand how the contents of one's pants changes how 'valid' your love for another human being is? And has anyone told the Tories that gay people, can in fact, have children? It's mad world, I know. Besides, I'm pretty sure the need to have children went out of the window when people stopped being executed for not being Catholic. Which was quite a long time ago. I know the Tory party has a bit of a rep for being old fashioned, but that might just be pushing it. 
David Cameron, at least, seems to be rather happy about the idea of same-sex marriage, which I rather appreciate. I'm not sure if this is because he's A) genuinely quite a nice person, B) really wants the gay vote, or C) he and Clegg have a happy announcement coming up.
A member of the Tory party, who is one of the 25 who signed a petition to push back the vote for same-sex marriage, told the BBC that "It's not about being anti-gay." Well. Hmm. See, there are two problems with this. One - if you were pro-gay, you probably wouldn't be threatening to resign unless the vote was pushed back, and two - if you didn't really have an opinion about gay marriage, well, you still probably wouldn't be threatening your resignation.
I realize I may be a little biased on this matter. I would quite like to have a wife at some point though. And, y'know, be able to call her my 'wife', not my 'partner'. That's a lie, I'd love a partner, but only if it's followed by the words "in crime". I just hate how some people who are no relation to me, get to sit around and decide whether or not it will be legal to marry someone I love. Is it really that important? I don't think I'm asking all that much, really. I kind of get the feeling that, if you don't believe in gay marriage, and you try to stop it from happening, it's a little bit like how vegans like shouting at people who eat meat. And no one ever listens to vegans. Y'see?

So no, I'm not best pleased with the Tories at the moment of course. Don't worry, I'm still very much in love with Boris, it's just the rest of them that bother me. I apologies for any hideous mistakes, I'm not entirely up to date on political terms. 
Please read a review of the Yougov poll here.