Around half past nine this morning I joined the happy throng of concerned democrats crowding the entrance to the polling station. Having opened at seven in the morning the four members of the council controlling the station had been overwhelmed by the twenty individuals urging a rethink of county council and government policy. One of them put down her book to attend to me and having noted my name on the card which I proffered to her asked if I was who I was. You cannot defeat democracy when such security is in operation! It crossed my mind to return later with the card belonging to an ex-neighbour who returned home to India, and informing her I was Mr Salivati. It might have worked.
The selection was simple, insert one cross beside the name of the individual you wished to be your chosen representative. At this point I wished to insert a name of my own choosing, but this is not allowed. In front of my dim eyes lay five names about whom I knew very little. The Conservative is smugly sitting in the council at this moment and expects to stay there, the Labour man was removed some time back, the UKIP, Green and LIb-Dem are perennial also-rans but someone keeps appearing on their behalf. How I longed for a 'Pro cycling and anti smoking,' or 'Monster Raving Looney Party,' representative, alas they were not available. Maybe I should stand next time as the Scottish Nationalist? It would be interesting to see how many votes I gathered.
Having selected my numpty I then sat in the park while the sun warmed me and the east wind chilled me at the same time. I exchanged words with pretty scantily dressed girls as they passed by, I used several words, they used two. The blue tits flitted among the trees chewing at the new budding leaves, a dog or two wagged its tail, the newly cut grass gave off a fragrance unlike that given off by the brats who litter the place later in the day. Men wore shorts and dark glasses (why do men wear shorts in public?), silver aircraft reflected the sunshine as they passed by on their way to exotic places or Majorca, and one passerby stopped, stared and put ten pence in my hand so that I could "get a cup of tea mate."
Now I sit alongside the list of things to do that await doing.
Much later, I'm still sitting........
.
7 comments:
A cup of tea costs more than ten pence, you should have held out for more!
Good sign that the dogs are wagging their tails given the material from previous posts....
And as to identity checks my father told me that in his pre war canvassing days the slogan was
Vote early, vote often.
Try doing a tap dance or fake a heart attack next time and you might get 20p. You could buy an Iced Bun with your tea.
I hope you're not still sitting there, Adullamite, watching those blue tits!
Does it matter if one uses a St. Andrew's Cross or a St. George's Cross?
Numpty? Pillar of the establishment, shurely...?
I feel sure there is a degree of cynicism in these replies!
Kay, I will try again at the weekend.
Helen, Your dad voted more than once? I'm calling the polis!
Alan, If I did a tap dance I would not need to fake a heart attack.
Lee, Yes I am!
Jerry, One NEVER uses a St Georges cross.
Mike, Yup, that's wot I said!
Post a Comment