Floating

Tomorrow is the General Election. Tomorrow I shall stand in a little upturned table with a curtain attached, tethered pencil at the ready and…and I don’t know.

I’m one of the 40% of floating voters. One of the 40% who are pretty much convinced that they should vote, but who have no idea for who that vote should be for.  

Ip-dip-doo. I won’t vote for you.

Now, I could have spent the past eternity (what? It’s only been 6 weeks?!?!) reading the pamphlets pushed through the door, pouring over the manifestos, dragging canvassers from their election buses and dissecting sound bites. But, ugh, who has the time for that?! 

  
Yep, I know how she feels.

Either the pledges are void of actual quantifiable explanations of how the parties can achieve what they need to achieve. Or you look at them and think ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ We thank you for the intensity of distrust on that one Nick Clegg. Well done. (Although, Blair, you’re guilty too. I remember palpably the feeling of elation when you won your first term. And the subsequent sense of wrong-doing afterwards. So that’s what betrayal feels like.)

  
And that’s even before we get to cross-party name-calling and finger-pointing. Sit through a seven party ‘debate’? No thanks – there’s less shouting in a Christmas episode of EastEnders.

So instead I’ve skimmed some headlines, laughed at the photos of dumb-ass politicians, watched some topical comedy shows and by and large had my pre-campaign assumptions maintained. Surely that’s not good enough is it? That’s not the sort of apathy people have died for? But at the same time, shouldn’t there be some sort of comprehension test to prove we as an electorate are capable of voting? Obviously that would knock UKIP’s chances out of the water as no person of sound, rational mind could possibly think that their ideology is acceptable. Could they?!

So instead I’ve turned to the internet. It’s a 21st century after all – the only thing we’ve needed all along is an app!!!

 
If only we COULD go back and try again if it turned out the ACTUAL policies weren’t to our tastes after all! 

Apparently I should vote Green. And in the past I have done. Except, I voted because I respected Caroline Lucas. Passionate, intelligent, the sort of person to make you think ‘oh, God, you’ve got a point!’ But now, with Natalie Bennett at the helm- really?!?! Less ‘Great! Let’s save the Earth!’ more ‘Earth to Natalie! Earth to Natalie!!!’

  

So I still don’t know. Thank for nothing, technology!

Katie Hopkins has promised that she’ll move out of the UK if Labour get in though. Now that’s tempting! But she hasn’t also promised to go back and hide under whichever rock she originally crawled out of, so I doubt, sadly, that it will remove her from our existence. Plus the rest of the world has its own problems without us jettisoning her influence into them. 

 
Oh, sod, it’s all too  difficult to choose! But then I struggle picking from a lunch menu sometimes, so maybe others are doing better at this than me. Perhaps I’ll just let my gut choose. Or a coin: ‘Heads you lose. Tails you lose.’

The ironic thing though is that we live in a Tory stronghold. Voldermort look-a-like, Henry Bellingham, is likely to represent us in my little corner of Norfolk once again for another four years. 

  
*Sigh* it does make you wonder ‘what’s the point?’ but although I may be floating it doesn’t mean I have to take it lying down.

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3 thoughts on “Floating”

  1. Quite a conundrum for sure. I never had much ambition to listen to them either when they’re on the campaign trail…..I too relate to that little girl up there in the picture. I’ve actually just given up on voting altogether…seems to make no difference which one of them is in there anymore…..

    1. I always feel obliged to vote (the lengths people go to to gain ‘democracy’ it’s wrong to waste that right). But then I don’t feel educated or inspired enough to know I’m making the right choice. I’ve not voted for a winner yet, mind you, so at least I don’t then have a sense of culpability when it all goes tits-up.

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