Apologies I missed yesterday – this was written then, but I wasn’t about to pay twenty fucking quid for internet access. I haven’t read it since yesterday, so it may well be awful and half-baked.
Where were you when the world ended? I was sat in a hotel room across the road from Gloucester Street (or Road, I can’t be bothered looking out of the window) tube station. I had just eaten a hearty, healthy meal of a chicken and mushroom slice and a scotch egg (26% of your daily saturates? NOM), with dessert of a double Double Decker waiting for me and a freshly-made coffee on the side. When the world ended, I was surrounded by deliciosity.
Even so, it didn’t manage to soften the blow that David Cameron was set to become our next Emperor. What is it the kids say? Oh yeah: FML.
I’m not as angry or full of despair as I was the other day – and I realise I’m going back on what I said about no more political posts, but hush down. I am still worried though, but more than anything I’m angry: at that yellow bastard for talking me into voting for his stupid, pointless party. These may well be words I eat as it comes out that it’s the most perfect unison of governmental parties in the history of the universe, but right now I’m as clued-up as the news, which is “not very much”. So baseless speculation it is:
Nick Clegg will be nothing more than a voiceless face sat next to Plumboy McToff, waiting silently until his party is dismantled from within by wheelings and dealings of Tory rats. The country will be into a financial spiral of Death and Destruction for those of us with little-to-no money and the Liberal Democrats – partners in this – will have no say on the matter. Blah blah other negativity – you get the picture.
It’s just a speculative fiction. I’m not placing any bets right now.
On a lighter side, it is funny to watch this on BBC’s rolling coverage. They have no idea what’s going on, and they’re even talking about how Brown was just caught in traffic as if that’s actually some kind of news. Le sigh.