Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred

Off The Wall Essays From Deep Within A Capricious Mind

Power To The People!!

More out of duty than faith in any political party, I’ve just voted in the UK’s General Election. To my mind, a ballot where citizens of this sceptred isle are perched between a rock and a hard place when it comes to selecting who governs…… Or should that be a cock or furry face?!

Footnote – Furry face is Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn!!…. It would be impolite to relay who is the cock. Although, I’d posit you’d be able to guess.

Anyhow, now I’ve voted for a political doctrine I deem as the lesser of two evils I can regress back to an existence of political indifference. A domain where I’ve more interest in delivery of the gifts purchased for Christmas than when Brexit will be delivered.

Bearing in mind the economic and social impacts of Brexit, GJ Strachan’s observations may appear overly cynical, perhaps even a little crass. However I do promise to show more interest in the subject when someone can actually give the slightest indication of what the impacts will be….. I’ve enough detritus in my life without unduly worrying about potential consequences which even those advocating it’s implementation can’t elucidate with any clarity.

My widespread distrust of each political party has meant I’ve not bothered watching any of the televised party leader debates or party political broadcasts during the General Election’s build up. Instead Netflix series Mindhunter, a drama relating to serial killer psychology, has been my recent viewing. A US drama broadcast which to my mind provides a less unpleasant cast of characters….. Only kidding ladies and gents! 😉

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I did tweet Jeremy Corbyn with a suggestion for Labour to raise funds for National Health Service (NHS). This blueprint that of shadow cabinet minister Diane Abbott buying a tenners worth of EuroMillions lottery tickets every Friday…..  Sadly, I’ve not yet heard back from Jezza.

Via social media, I also suggested a method of financing the NHS to Conservative leader Boris Johnson. This strategy that of raising funds for the nation’s healthcare by selling off the silver spoons which reside in the mouths of his MP’s and party members. Like Corbyn, though, he hasn’t thus far responded. Perhaps he’s been too busy ordering a hearse for the NHS’s funeral, in the event he prevails at the polling stations.

My two siblings hold far more passionate notions about politics than their elder brother. In some ways I wish I’d their energy and drive to feel as strongly about the subject which affects every man Jack of the UK’s populous. Rightly or unfairly, though, I view national government with huge distrust, regardless of which end of the political spectrum holds a House of Commons majority.

When it comes to our members of parliament I’m inclined to subscribe to late US writer Mark Twain’s observation “An honest man in politics shines more there than he would elsewhere. All Congresses and Parliaments have a kindly feeling for idiots, and a compassion for them, on account of personal experience and heredity.”

On the morning of Friday 13th December, whoever is named as the governing party, be that one affiliation getting a majority or a coalition government, I’ll be suitably underwhelmed.

Power to the people!!

Categories: Blogs, humour, parody, poetry

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4 replies

  1. I pity the Uk and everyone under Brexit. Fingers crossed. Here in NZ we are attempting recovering bodies after a major volcanic eruption. Bit different. Politics? well back to the heady days of youth. I was a YC. May that not be held forever agaist me. The Young Conservatives…the YC’s met in Bewick street and had wonderful strident discussions. Much better were their folk evenings, where triple distilled potato vodka was obtained from the local Police Sergeants son from the garden shed. Excitment – the oven door blew off when heating up the Greggs sausage rolls…abounded. We also had great parties with the yc’s…. spoken with a mutter… the young communists. They met in vaulted surroundings in a building in the old Eldon Square. One didnt mention these parties at home where a mere socialist comment would be a rush to wash your mouth out with soapy water by my ultra conservative parents (well we did live in Dawlish Gardens) Oh days of fire and brimstone… my class at Heathfield is scatered all over the World. I hope the world is a better place because of us, who knows

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