Ah, what it is to be twenty two on a bright sunny summer evening. The sun glinting off the river, the long grass swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of wild flowers that almost, but not quite, overpowers the less fragrant aroma wafting downriver from the sewage works ... yes, in the midst of life, we are in shit. And what better way to know it that a stroll along the bank of the River Usk after a hot sunny early summer day....
But today is no ordinary day. Today is the day New Liebour face up to the reality that they no longer call the shots unaided in the Unitary Authority of Newport. For today is the day that the voters of Bettws and St Julians get to elect the final six nails that will be hammered into Labour's coffin.
Bettws of course is the sink estate from hell west of the A4042. Famous in my book for housing the unlicenced taxi cabbie that drove his cab straight through my front lawn, taking my fences with it, and the uninsured piece of shit that shot the red lights to race across into Malpas Road, taking the corner of my Mini with her. Neither of which the plod showed any interest in pursuing. A sink estate from hell that will almost certainly return three New Liebour cronies.
And the sickening thing is, unless I vote for the "Tabibin" Liberal Democrats, staunch supporters of rising petrol prices on the grounds that being unable to drive to work is good for us, even stauncher supporters of the Pikey's right to soil our playing fields with their filth in their illegal caravan encampments, and positively wetting themselves over the fact that jackbooted council workers can sit on their arses paid from the astronomical council tax to sit around by their un-driven dustcarts whilst our streets stink from a fortnight's uncollected refuse, unless I vote for those worthless pieces of shit who think it is an achievement to get a street light working, I will find my home and the land it stands on ruled once again (ridden roughshod over, more like) by the red scum again.
Where the hell are the BNP when you **REALLY** need them, and where the hell is a PROPER electoral system that makes these gravy train rides cower in fear at the thought of being handed a P45 ?
But what's this I hear ? A knock on the door, and a fresh faced youth carrying a collection of 'Vote Labour' leaflets is ushered into my living room by my elder daughter, who recognises him from the time they were in school together just a few years back.
Apparently employed as a researcher by our local MP, the chap has taken a day off to deliver party leaflets. Now this in itself is interesting, because in my day it was illegal to canvass on polling day, but apparently the oficials in charge of this election have agreed it is ok to deliver leaflets today which urge you to vote labour, just so long as the people delivering the leaflets don't ASK you to vote labour, and as long as, when challenged on the subject by people like me who recolelct how the law USED to be upheld, respond that the leaflet itself merely points out what the party has done......
It occurs to me this chap will do rather well for himself in the party. He's already sounding like the Attorney General after the advice of the illegality (sorry, non-illegality) of our participation in Bush's military adventures in Iraq was revealed to all and sundry, and he's quite good at keeping his cool under pressure.
And he's actually looking forward to going to the count tonight which he expects will keep him awake until at least 3am.
I'm impressed.
No, I really am impressed. Im impressed that someone that young is actually interested in getting involved in politics. It's a shame I'm paying his salary out of the bungs Jessica Morden gets courtesy of my tax bill, but hell, at least I'm not funding Lee Jasper.
But I wonder if this fresh faced chap will still be this interested in the subset of Liars Buggers and Thieves led by 'Not Flash, Just Gordon' when he starts paying the sort of tax bills I get.
Still, at least he will know who to blame when the time comes !
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