There’s a lot to catch up on after a week away, but the news cycle refuses to sit still. I only heard about the attempt on Donald Trump’s life because I had my laptop with me on holiday and checked the news before I went out for the day. Then, yesterday, as I’m contemplating posting some sort of links catch-up, Joe Biden announces he’s stepping out of the presidential election race and backing his vice-president in the campaign against Trump.
After waiting all day for the polls to close, I switched on the news with the rest of the country last night and saw, at 10pm, the predictions of the exit polls: 410 seats for Labour, 131 for the Tories, 61 for the Lib Dems and 13 for Reform—a landslide for Starmer, but with a foothold for Farage. For the next few hours, apart from the early counts from Sunderland and Blythe (both Labour holds with Reform taking second place from the Tories), there was nothing to do but wait, as talking heads from both parties tried to manage expectations while simultaneously marvelling at the results.
My local polling station was no busier than usual this morning (which I hope isn’t ominous—if anything sinks the chances of Labour it’ll be low turnout). I always carry my driving licence, but took along my burgundy-covered passport as ID just to stick two silent fingers up to the Tories and their blatant attempts at voter suppression on the flimsiest of pretexts. True, many other countries have long required ID at the polls, but not requiring it was one of the things I always liked about Britain. The polling officials would look your name up on the rolls and that was it—it was cosy and welcoming, like having your name on the door at a gig. If anyone tried to vote twice it was bound to come out later and bite them, so very few ever did.
That’s gone now, and unlikely to come back. Yet another reason to savour the schadenfreude of Rishi Sunak worrying about becoming the first British prime minister to be voted out of his constituency. C’mon, Richmond and Northallerton, you can do it.
At last, in just a few minutes it’s General Election day.
A month ago the ABC reported on attempts to rename a creek in Victoria bearing a derogatory nineteenth-century term for Aboriginal women. The story’s painful images of century-old advertising and packaging reminded me of going through my grandma’s estate in the 1990s and stumbling across pamphlets and artifacts from the Depression featuring Aboriginal children. I won’t repeat the language those used, but seeing a similar pun on a can of motor oil was a reminder of how widespread such language was.
Only three more sleeps till X-mas! Admittedly, one where Santa Keir won’t bring much in the way of presents, but at least we’ll be shot of Krampus. I have received a few gifts, though, if you can call campaign leaflets gifts: a few came in the post on Friday from the Scottish Greens, the Lib Dems and Labour. The SNP were ahead of the game with a first mailout a few weeks ago and a second last week, but they’re unlikely to win in this safe Labour seat. Nothing from Reform yet, but if they do send me something I’m tempted to keep it—could be a nice little earner in retirement. There’s a market for Nazi memorabilia.
And today, a Tory leaflet finally arrived—a large glossy foldout mentioning the SNP and Labour more than the fact that the candidate is a Conservative. He talks about city council issues, Scottish government, and “real priorities of local people”. No mention of Westminster, Sunak, or the Tories’ national record over the last fourteen years. He even says he’ll “focus on the NHS”! Hmm, yes, I’m focussing hard on it… I can see it crumbling… yep, getting a gooood look.
A recent article on an Australian woman’s collaboration with the Stasi reminded me of Anna Funder’s brilliant book Stasiland, not to mention visiting the “Round Corner” Stasi Museum in Leipzig in 1998.
Six weeks isn’t a particularly long election campaign, as Americans will attest, but when you just want to skip to the end and glory in the annihilation of an entire political party it feels like an age.
The Tories now say they would bring back mandatory national service if they win the election. Not satisfied with having stolen our children’s future in Europe, they now want to steal our children outright.
They’re going to drag out every ghastly policy of old over the coming weeks, aren’t they? Bring back fox hunting, bring back corporal punishment, bring back hanging. Force-feed the Suffragettes and lock the homosexualists up in Reading Gaol.
Fortunately, this announcement is the party equivalent of your past life flashing before your eyes at the moment of death. The Tories scored their lowest vote share yet in a poll conducted after Sunak’s election announcement: 19 percent, which would leave them with “only 34 seats, the third party in Parliament behind the Lib Dems with Labour holding a majority of 388”. Not only will Sunak not be PM on 5 July, he’ll be lucky to be Leader of the Opposition.
I happened to switch on the radio on Wednesday just as PM came on air a few minutes early to cover Rishi Sunak’s surprise election announcement. I’d long figured he would hang on till grim death and take us to the polls next January, the latest possible moment. But no, he said the second half of this year, and July the 4th is the second half of this year, so you can’t fault him for that. You can fault him for just about everything else, but not that.