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         The British Spring

So, here we are, in the aftermath of another General Election, the depression settling on us like a concrete slab, as we realise that we are saddled, for another five years, with a government that really doesn't give a damn. People are out on the streets in London, I hear, demanding a change in the electoral system, so that it reflects the way people voted. Not that I care for his politics, but I find myself sympathising with Mr Farage at the absurdity of a system where UKIP can get 10% of the vote and 1 seat, yet the SNP get 56 seats with only 5% of the vote. Petitions are flying around the internet ( or it might be just one, but on many platforms) demanding reform. Smaller parties are adding their voices to the hue and cry, and unlikely bedfellows, UKIP and the Green Party, are considering shacking up together over the matter.

Poor old Nick Clegg must be banging his head on the kitchen table in despair. Where were you, people, when the referendum to change the voting system was not only on the table, but served up on a plate? Did you believe the story that Proportional Representation would result in perpetually weak government ( and consequently, the lie that strong government is necessarily a good thing)? Or was it that you couldn't be arsed to walk to the polling station and make your view known? Didn't understand it? They're all the same anyway? Don't vote because it makes no difference?

Perhaps it was the British Spring, the rise of the smaller parties, that had us hoping that things might actually change, and that the political landscape was about to be repainted, and this time in a rainbow of hues. It looked so good. It looked so interesting. People were engaged.

What happened? Did we lose our nerve? Did we believe the ridiculous rumours and lies in the right wing press? Did we really think the Scots having a strong voice would be bad for us? And now look what we've done- a strong government, maybe, but is it a fair one? Answer that question yourself in five years time, when, perhaps, your all your workers rights have been removed and you're paying for your health care.

Yes, sign the petition. No, I mean it- sign it. Make your view known. It is possible Cameron will take heed. But I doubt it. He has, after all, five years for the hubbub to die down and apathy to reassert itself. Nicholas, meanwhile, will be ruing what might have been, how, if this dissatisfaction with the voting system had been prevalent when the LibDems wrangled that referendum out of the Tories, he might not be looking for a new job and at a decimated political party.

May 2015












 

Letter to Nicola Sturgeon

Dear Nicola, could you help me please?

I'm getting down on bended knees

To ask you and your SNPs

To do a little thing for me.

I really can't face five more years

Of Tory rule- in fact, I fear

If you now cannot come up trumps,

I'll be forever in the dumps.

Dear Nicola, it's a simple plan-

To thwart the Tories where you can.

Ask the questions others shirk,

And ask them till they go berserk.

Ignore the PM's indignation,

See right through his declaration

No one else has got a clue

And he knows so much more than you.

Pick him up on every flaw

Of argument and then ignore

His implication that you've no whit

To understand the half of it.

Recognise prevarication

Falsehoods, fibbing and evasion.

See if you can raise the roof

And make the PM tell the truth.

And make him tell the whole of it,

And not misleading little bits.

Prod and probe and then attack

And get down to the real facts.

And if you've time, perhaps you might

Set legislation in your sights-

Make sure that Cameron has to fight

To get by you what isn't right.

In short, dear Nicola, if you can,

Make life much harder for this man.

Make sure that he's always brought to book-

And NEVER let him off the hook.

May 2015

Copyright Tracey Meredith 2015

Nigel, Nigel,
Give us an answer do.
You're half crazy
And a little bit stupid too.
There seems to be a barrage
Of slip-ups by Nigel Farage.
Oh, it's so sweet,
So totally neat,
That your party's disowned you too.

 

January 2015