Election Time: I Ask The Questions
Which party has the best economic policies to respond to the deficit? What does ‘MP’ stand for? What’s that smell? Perhaps, like me, your answer to these hard-hitting political questions is ‘I don’t know! I don’t know! Stop asking me! Just fuck off and leave me alone! I'm not fucking about! I've got a knife!’ Adrift in a sea of conflicting poll-results and newspaper comment pieces I decided the best way to gauge the mood of the British electorate was to take to my local, the Pug and Shovel, to shoot the political breeze with some of the locals.
Mr Keats. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions about current affairs?
Free country.
I’m trying to gauge the public mood in regards to the upcoming election. Which of the major parties’ manifesto pledges has the most realistically practicably economic policies in regards to the deficit?
Salad cream. Can you believe it?
I’m sorry?
Would you look at that. Do you see that?
What?
Behind the bar. Do you see that?
What? What am I looking at?
Behind the bar. You can’t see it?
Yeah. I mean, no. I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
The sauces, man. The sauces.
The what?
Look. Those little baskets they give you when you order food - do you see them? - they’re just under that dusty Campari bottle. Can you see them now?
Yes. I’m still not sure why they’re-
Now, normally you get ketchup and vinegar. Maybe mayonnaise. Yeah?
Okay.
Well, look at what they give you here: tartar sauce, salad cream, brown sauce, two types of mustard - two! It’s incredible.
Yes. I suppose it is.
Right. When I say so you create a distraction. I’ll nip behind the bar and grab what I can.
What? No, wait. I-
And get ready to run. Anything you want in particular?
No. Please, there’s no-
I’ll get you some horseradish.
Wait, what-
Okay start screaming now. Go on! Now! Go!
Aaaaaargh! Yaaaaargh! Aaaaaaargh!
Free country.
I’m trying to gauge the public mood in regards to the upcoming election. Which of the major parties’ manifesto pledges has the most realistically practicably economic policies in regards to the deficit?
Salad cream. Can you believe it?
I’m sorry?
Would you look at that. Do you see that?
What?
Behind the bar. Do you see that?
What? What am I looking at?
Behind the bar. You can’t see it?
Yeah. I mean, no. I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
The sauces, man. The sauces.
The what?
Look. Those little baskets they give you when you order food - do you see them? - they’re just under that dusty Campari bottle. Can you see them now?
Yes. I’m still not sure why they’re-
Now, normally you get ketchup and vinegar. Maybe mayonnaise. Yeah?
Okay.
Well, look at what they give you here: tartar sauce, salad cream, brown sauce, two types of mustard - two! It’s incredible.
Yes. I suppose it is.
Right. When I say so you create a distraction. I’ll nip behind the bar and grab what I can.
What? No, wait. I-
And get ready to run. Anything you want in particular?
No. Please, there’s no-
I’ll get you some horseradish.
Wait, what-
Okay start screaming now. Go on! Now! Go!
Aaaaaargh! Yaaaaargh! Aaaaaaargh!
Robert Mugabe, it’s delightful to meet you. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?
Questions?
Yeah, it’s just for a blog I do.
Oh, a music blog?
No, not exactly.
Or is it one of those blogs? Y’know, the steamy ones?
No. I’m trying to get a sense of what the public’s view of the election is.
Know who you should do a blog about?
Who?
Michael Bolton. He’s wonderful. And so handsome!
What, the easy listening singer?
Sure! Although, y’know, there’s a great deal more depth to his work than the pejorative term ‘easy listening’ might imply.
Right.
He’s a wonderful human being!
He is?
Did you know, for instance, that Michael Bolton received the Congress Of Racial Equality’s Martin Luther King Award?
No, no I didn’t.
And, of course, his version of ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’ won a Grammy.
I see.
As did ‘Go The Distance’, his song from the Disney film Hercules.
I see. So what you’re saying, basically, is that the media might be drawn to the current story regarding Gordon Brown referring to a member of the public as a bigot because the generally perception is that he’s two-faced and dismissive of the opinions of others? Than he’s an easy target but, beneath the surface, there’s a good deal more substance.
Let me put it another way. Did you know Michael Bolton’s ‘Steel Bars’ was voted ‘Make-Out Song Of 1991’ by the readers of Pop Time magazine?
‘Make-Out Song’?
It means a song which is good for folks to listen to whilst kissing each other. I think it’s an American phrase.
Right. No. Can’t say I knew that, no.
Like, full-on kissing. With tongues.
Right. So, I guess what you’re saying is that, although he might seem an unappealing choice of leader due to his being rough around the edges compared to David Cameron and Nick Clegg, the lack of a PR sheen should in itself be seen as an attractive factor by the electorate?
Let me put it another way. Do you find elderly African tyrants attractive?
Attractive?
Attractive.
Would you mind terribly not touching my leg?
I know the guy who owns this pub. He’s got a spare room upstairs.
Right… listen, I’m not entirely sure I foLLOW YOU! Please don’t touch me there, Mr Mugabe.
I’ll touch you wherever I damn well please.
I thought you were against homosexuality. You had your political predecessor tried and sentenced for buggery.
It’s different when I do it. Mugabuggery, I call it.
Right.
Most people laugh when I tell them that.
Oh, so - sorry, I’m terribly confused now - you’re joking?
No. Take your top off or I’ll have my thugs here beat you. As you can see they’ve both got rugby socks filled with rocks.
Right. Fine. There.
Edgar! Lock the door. Clarence! Here’s a quid. Get Steel Bars on that jukebox. Leave your rock-sock with me. I’ll be needing it.
Questions?
Yeah, it’s just for a blog I do.
Oh, a music blog?
No, not exactly.
Or is it one of those blogs? Y’know, the steamy ones?
No. I’m trying to get a sense of what the public’s view of the election is.
Know who you should do a blog about?
Who?
Michael Bolton. He’s wonderful. And so handsome!
What, the easy listening singer?
Sure! Although, y’know, there’s a great deal more depth to his work than the pejorative term ‘easy listening’ might imply.
Right.
He’s a wonderful human being!
He is?
Did you know, for instance, that Michael Bolton received the Congress Of Racial Equality’s Martin Luther King Award?
No, no I didn’t.
And, of course, his version of ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’ won a Grammy.
I see.
As did ‘Go The Distance’, his song from the Disney film Hercules.
I see. So what you’re saying, basically, is that the media might be drawn to the current story regarding Gordon Brown referring to a member of the public as a bigot because the generally perception is that he’s two-faced and dismissive of the opinions of others? Than he’s an easy target but, beneath the surface, there’s a good deal more substance.
Let me put it another way. Did you know Michael Bolton’s ‘Steel Bars’ was voted ‘Make-Out Song Of 1991’ by the readers of Pop Time magazine?
‘Make-Out Song’?
It means a song which is good for folks to listen to whilst kissing each other. I think it’s an American phrase.
Right. No. Can’t say I knew that, no.
Like, full-on kissing. With tongues.
Right. So, I guess what you’re saying is that, although he might seem an unappealing choice of leader due to his being rough around the edges compared to David Cameron and Nick Clegg, the lack of a PR sheen should in itself be seen as an attractive factor by the electorate?
Let me put it another way. Do you find elderly African tyrants attractive?
Attractive?
Attractive.
Would you mind terribly not touching my leg?
I know the guy who owns this pub. He’s got a spare room upstairs.
Right… listen, I’m not entirely sure I foLLOW YOU! Please don’t touch me there, Mr Mugabe.
I’ll touch you wherever I damn well please.
I thought you were against homosexuality. You had your political predecessor tried and sentenced for buggery.
It’s different when I do it. Mugabuggery, I call it.
Right.
Most people laugh when I tell them that.
Oh, so - sorry, I’m terribly confused now - you’re joking?
No. Take your top off or I’ll have my thugs here beat you. As you can see they’ve both got rugby socks filled with rocks.
Right. Fine. There.
Edgar! Lock the door. Clarence! Here’s a quid. Get Steel Bars on that jukebox. Leave your rock-sock with me. I’ll be needing it.
Hello there. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions about the upcoming election?
What sort of questions?
Well, just how you feel the outcome might impact upon you.
They’re just out to rob you, aren’t they, those politicians? I was only saying as much to Reenie this morning.
Are you referring to the possibility of the Conservative’s industry spending reductions which will affect working class voters, or would you say this is the sort of behaviour we’ve come to expect from any of the major parties since Labour instated the controversial 50p tax rate.
I hate that Alistair Darling. Always got his snout in the gravy train, hasn’t he? He’s New Labour isn’t he?
That’s right I suppose, yes.
I hate New Labour, Viv. Reenie says she hates it too. She comes round twice a week to help with things around the house. Her husband’s diabetic.
I see.
Know that Tony Blair? I hate him too. He’s a warmonger. He mongers war. And he’s a bush’s poodle. He mongers war and then chews on it, like it’s lovely juicy bones. Then he hides it in the garden, Isn’t it terrible?
Yes, when you put it like that, I suppose it-
It’s not always in the garden though. They do that so they can find it later. Do you have a dog, Viv?
No, I don’t.
We don’t want our Prime Ministers eating bones do we, Viv? A dog shouldn’t really be allowed to run a country. Unless it’s a very clever dog.
If we just return to the subject of-
That sort of thing was expected when I was in charge of Narnia - eating bones and digging holes next in people‘s gardens. But I’m a ferocious lion. Look at my fangs, Viv. Are you looking? Do you see them?
Yes. Yes, I see them. I see them.
You can touch my mane too if you like.
I’m… it’s… I’m-
Tony Blair isn’t a lion.
I wouldn’t deny that. However, Gordon Brown is the current Prime Minister.
He’s mad, isn’t he, that Gordon Brown?
I’m not sure that’s strictly-
Know why he’s mad, Viv? It’s all the political correctness gone mad. It’s made him mad. He’s gone mental. It’s no surprise that all he does is sit in a kennel in Downing Street eating bones.
Well now, that’s-
My brother-in-law’s cousin, Barry, he says he’d make a better Prime Minister. He runs the bingo-nights at the Rifle Regiment clubhouse in the residential park. And a smashing job he does of it too. He knows all the calls - ‘unlucky for some - 13’, ‘all on its own - 1’, ‘four fat geese - 3’ - so I’ve no cause to doubt him.
Yes, but-
He met Lulu once. Got her to sign his stomach with one of those marker pens. He got it tattooed on the very next day.
So anyway-
He says he’d take all the foreigners and all the paedophiles and lock them in camps.
Right.
Not the poofs and trannies though.
No.
They should all just be shot in their downstairs departments.
Aslan, thank you.
What sort of questions?
Well, just how you feel the outcome might impact upon you.
They’re just out to rob you, aren’t they, those politicians? I was only saying as much to Reenie this morning.
Are you referring to the possibility of the Conservative’s industry spending reductions which will affect working class voters, or would you say this is the sort of behaviour we’ve come to expect from any of the major parties since Labour instated the controversial 50p tax rate.
I hate that Alistair Darling. Always got his snout in the gravy train, hasn’t he? He’s New Labour isn’t he?
That’s right I suppose, yes.
I hate New Labour, Viv. Reenie says she hates it too. She comes round twice a week to help with things around the house. Her husband’s diabetic.
I see.
Know that Tony Blair? I hate him too. He’s a warmonger. He mongers war. And he’s a bush’s poodle. He mongers war and then chews on it, like it’s lovely juicy bones. Then he hides it in the garden, Isn’t it terrible?
Yes, when you put it like that, I suppose it-
It’s not always in the garden though. They do that so they can find it later. Do you have a dog, Viv?
No, I don’t.
We don’t want our Prime Ministers eating bones do we, Viv? A dog shouldn’t really be allowed to run a country. Unless it’s a very clever dog.
If we just return to the subject of-
That sort of thing was expected when I was in charge of Narnia - eating bones and digging holes next in people‘s gardens. But I’m a ferocious lion. Look at my fangs, Viv. Are you looking? Do you see them?
Yes. Yes, I see them. I see them.
You can touch my mane too if you like.
I’m… it’s… I’m-
Tony Blair isn’t a lion.
I wouldn’t deny that. However, Gordon Brown is the current Prime Minister.
He’s mad, isn’t he, that Gordon Brown?
I’m not sure that’s strictly-
Know why he’s mad, Viv? It’s all the political correctness gone mad. It’s made him mad. He’s gone mental. It’s no surprise that all he does is sit in a kennel in Downing Street eating bones.
Well now, that’s-
My brother-in-law’s cousin, Barry, he says he’d make a better Prime Minister. He runs the bingo-nights at the Rifle Regiment clubhouse in the residential park. And a smashing job he does of it too. He knows all the calls - ‘unlucky for some - 13’, ‘all on its own - 1’, ‘four fat geese - 3’ - so I’ve no cause to doubt him.
Yes, but-
He met Lulu once. Got her to sign his stomach with one of those marker pens. He got it tattooed on the very next day.
So anyway-
He says he’d take all the foreigners and all the paedophiles and lock them in camps.
Right.
Not the poofs and trannies though.
No.
They should all just be shot in their downstairs departments.
Aslan, thank you.
You’re a Lego Abraham Lincoln with his legs on backwards.
Yes, that’s right.
Would you think it’s fair to say that on certain policies the Liberal Democrats remain vague in regards to matters of implementation?
No. No, I don’t think so. Not exactly.
Oh. Okay.
Setting policy in the middle of an economic downturn isn’t an easy job. Vagueness becomes a necessary tool for campaigning. Making overly specific costing pledges for an uncertain future is bound to result in disappointment.
Right. Well, how would you say Nick Clegg compares with Gordon Brown and David Cameron?
I don’t think making a comparison between leaders is ever particularly useful. Wildly disparate leadership styles can be equally as valid as one another. And they can often yield the same results. Also, the dynamics of power are in a state of constant flux within any given party, so-
Right. Can I stop you there?
Is there a problem?
To be honest I’d hoped you’d say some more amusing things than this.
More amusing?
Yes. When I thought you up I thought you’d be a bit funnier.
I’m not totally sure I follow you.
It’s just that as a comedy invention you seemed very promising - a Lego Abraham Lincoln with his legs on backwards - that sounds like something which promises at least a few laughs.
So that’s the sole reason you created me? You don’t actually care about my views on the NHS or defence budget cuts?
Not really. Not unless they’re jokes, to be honest. But you’ve turned out to be really sensible. It’s boring.
You can’t really hold me responsible for that. You’re the one who created me. I’m your creation. Anything I say is your responsibility.
Well, when I came up with you I thought you’d give me more mileage.
What kind of comedy creation is that anyway? A Lego Lincoln with backwards legs?
What’s wrong with that?
Well it sounds sort of funny I guess. The idea that you’d interview such a thing. But that’s all. I don’t know why you thought I’d automatically have anything funny to say.
Okay.
If anything you shot your load on that one. Anything I was going to say was going to be a disappointment compared to ‘Lego Lincoln With His Legs On Backwards’.
Okay, okay. You could make more of an effort. That’s all I’m saying.
That’s not my fault. I’m you, so it’s your fault.
Okay! Jesus.
And now you’re trying some kind of half-arsed post-modern deconstruction of this notion of me being you, just to cover for your failings.
I am not.
Yes you are. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You can’t hide things from me. I’m you. If you keep going on, I’ll tell all your readers everything. About your ‘wank hat’, about how a certain someone ran that tramp over last year and hid him on a traffic island among some shrubs and…
That’s enough.
…and about The Room.
Don’t tell them about the room. Please.
I don’t even think my legs are on backwards in that picture.
Listen, it’s hard enough to find a half-decent picture of Lego Lincoln. One with the legs on backwards just doesn‘t exist. Google it if you don’t believe me. I didn’t think anyone would notice, really. But now you’ve pointed it out, Einstein.
You’re the one who pointed it out, remember. Being, as you are, me.
Don’t try to be clever. You just look like a dick.
You’re the one trying to be clever.
Hey, I don’t need a lecture from my own poorly defined blog-character.
It would appear that’s exactly what you need.
Just shut up, alright?
Don’t get uppity with me. You’re the one who’s sitting typing this whole thing out. You complete freak.
I don’t need this.
Yeah? Well, I - and I’m you, remember - beg to differ. That’s why you’re still writing all of this down.
Oh, God! This is like the end of The Prisoner. My own arch-nemesis turns out to be myself. And I’m a knob.
Don’t pretend you had any idea what was going on in the last episode of the Prisoner. I know you didn’t.
Fine! It’s like, I dunno, Dostoevsky’s The Double.
You’ve not read that, pin-dick.
That’s it. This interview is over.
Yes, that’s right.
Would you think it’s fair to say that on certain policies the Liberal Democrats remain vague in regards to matters of implementation?
No. No, I don’t think so. Not exactly.
Oh. Okay.
Setting policy in the middle of an economic downturn isn’t an easy job. Vagueness becomes a necessary tool for campaigning. Making overly specific costing pledges for an uncertain future is bound to result in disappointment.
Right. Well, how would you say Nick Clegg compares with Gordon Brown and David Cameron?
I don’t think making a comparison between leaders is ever particularly useful. Wildly disparate leadership styles can be equally as valid as one another. And they can often yield the same results. Also, the dynamics of power are in a state of constant flux within any given party, so-
Right. Can I stop you there?
Is there a problem?
To be honest I’d hoped you’d say some more amusing things than this.
More amusing?
Yes. When I thought you up I thought you’d be a bit funnier.
I’m not totally sure I follow you.
It’s just that as a comedy invention you seemed very promising - a Lego Abraham Lincoln with his legs on backwards - that sounds like something which promises at least a few laughs.
So that’s the sole reason you created me? You don’t actually care about my views on the NHS or defence budget cuts?
Not really. Not unless they’re jokes, to be honest. But you’ve turned out to be really sensible. It’s boring.
You can’t really hold me responsible for that. You’re the one who created me. I’m your creation. Anything I say is your responsibility.
Well, when I came up with you I thought you’d give me more mileage.
What kind of comedy creation is that anyway? A Lego Lincoln with backwards legs?
What’s wrong with that?
Well it sounds sort of funny I guess. The idea that you’d interview such a thing. But that’s all. I don’t know why you thought I’d automatically have anything funny to say.
Okay.
If anything you shot your load on that one. Anything I was going to say was going to be a disappointment compared to ‘Lego Lincoln With His Legs On Backwards’.
Okay, okay. You could make more of an effort. That’s all I’m saying.
That’s not my fault. I’m you, so it’s your fault.
Okay! Jesus.
And now you’re trying some kind of half-arsed post-modern deconstruction of this notion of me being you, just to cover for your failings.
I am not.
Yes you are. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You can’t hide things from me. I’m you. If you keep going on, I’ll tell all your readers everything. About your ‘wank hat’, about how a certain someone ran that tramp over last year and hid him on a traffic island among some shrubs and…
That’s enough.
…and about The Room.
Don’t tell them about the room. Please.
I don’t even think my legs are on backwards in that picture.
Listen, it’s hard enough to find a half-decent picture of Lego Lincoln. One with the legs on backwards just doesn‘t exist. Google it if you don’t believe me. I didn’t think anyone would notice, really. But now you’ve pointed it out, Einstein.
You’re the one who pointed it out, remember. Being, as you are, me.
Don’t try to be clever. You just look like a dick.
You’re the one trying to be clever.
Hey, I don’t need a lecture from my own poorly defined blog-character.
It would appear that’s exactly what you need.
Just shut up, alright?
Don’t get uppity with me. You’re the one who’s sitting typing this whole thing out. You complete freak.
I don’t need this.
Yeah? Well, I - and I’m you, remember - beg to differ. That’s why you’re still writing all of this down.
Oh, God! This is like the end of The Prisoner. My own arch-nemesis turns out to be myself. And I’m a knob.
Don’t pretend you had any idea what was going on in the last episode of the Prisoner. I know you didn’t.
Fine! It’s like, I dunno, Dostoevsky’s The Double.
You’ve not read that, pin-dick.
That’s it. This interview is over.
