I’ve got the shovel, the lantern, the battered copy of the Necronomicon and, to put it bluntly, I’m about the walk out the door and act out of my vindictive rage-fuelled fantasy on a certain metaphysical poet, who has been the epicentre of much stress and pain in my insignificant and ancillary existence, being a box of worm seed, salvatory of green mummy and slab of fantastical puff paste, over the last year.
Yep, it looks like I’m through the hysterical stage and now I’m just gonna march over to the poet’s corner, pretend I’ve come to renovate, or paint, or something, and then I’m going to dig in, dig out, and tear up a few bright bracelets of hair around bones and if I get the time, an outward soul.
Goddamnit, I am sick of the motherfucking conceits in those motherfucking poems – I can hardly take it anymore. I don’t care if that subtle wreath of hair which crowns his arm will keep his limbs her provinces from dissolution and all that other happy go lucky orthodox crap. If it wasn’t for John Webster’s casual and refreshing nihilism, elegantly reminding of us of what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness doth, fearful and womanish mankind live, then I probably would have ran screaming from my educational institution by now.
I guess it’s time of evening, although I should not harm nor question much that – goddamnit. I’ll have to leave it, just in case it breeds idolatry. Goddamnit. Donne must be turning in his grave.
Brace yourselves, ladies and gentleman, for a gruelling six weeks or so of rolled up sleeves, dishevelled ties, hollow promises and unrivalled sycophancy: the 2010 election has reared its filthy head. For the class- conscious and unintelligent, this will of course be a wonderful time to peddle the wheelbarrow of lies known commonly as a ‘Tory Manifesto', which, although devoid of policies, is bound to delight the pants off the fat cats, as they wobble precariously on large piles of cartoon gold.
Alternatively, you could of course vote with your feet and give Father Bear another five years in office, although this too is not without its setbacks. He might be fully qualified to handle the financial crisis, or whatever the fear- mongers are calling it these days, but –good heavens – imagine the mudslinging and libel that would fill the Tory newspapers – as if staring the Daily Mail in the face each time you walk into a shop isn’t bad enough as it is. Oh, the gurgling putrescent horror.
Of course, if one is more partial to sitting on the fence and perhaps even stimulating that elusive G-spot in the process (which scientists, by the way tell us, doesn’t exist) one may find oneself putting a cross in the Lib Dem box – this is a wonderful idea if their promises to legalize drugs, stop taxing the poor and cease violating the lowest earners from behind rings true – but as I’m sure we’re all aware, the Lib Dem party is a little bit like an Indy kid – he’s pleasant to look and, he’s like sooo alternative, but other than that he’s basically nothing more than a fucking ornament.
In fact, just for the lulz, why not vote in the BNP? It doesn’t seem to have occurred to them yet that their policies neither make logical sense nor take into account pesky human rights legislation, who could deny that should they win a majority, excellent comedy will ensue? But of course, you must vote- really you must! Don’t go missing out on your slice of democracy, young lady/old chap, this is an opportunity to sit on.
They might be a bunch of bespectacled, top buttoned lunatics but these old fools are all going to do us a rather large favour – or so we’re told. Oh, and they’re all soooo different from each you know, just completely like, homogeneous and stuff. Oh, bollocks. Freudian Slip.
There aren’t a great deal of surprises when it comes to Nick Griffin. Yes, he’s something of a racist bigot and he does indeed seem to have the bizarre impression that our good and noble country is being invaded by rancid immigrants who want to steal all our jobs. But most of us saw that one coming. Most of us also anticipated the name to be met with a volley of boos and roars of disdain no matter where it appeared – the local newspapers, the playground, the smoking area, hell, even on Question Time. No one is really very shocked that a lot of hapless members of the working class are starting to flock towards his policies, which are idealistic at best in theory, and let’s be honest, nothing more than a total fucking disaster in practise.
No, what really intrigued me is that Mr Griffin, a man who our lovely red-top papers have us believe to be a bumbling fool with a room temperature IQ, is actually a Cambridge Graduate. I forget which subject he studied there – probably classics, most classics students turn out twisted- but I do remember that he went to Downing College. One can safely assert that for two reasons, this revelation is one that will cause a reasonable amount of surprise amongst the good natured British Publick.
The first, and perhaps most brazenly stereotypical reason, is that in general we don’t expect racially motivated tyrant wannabes to be particularly intelligent. Of course, there are a few isolated exceptions –Wagner, for example springs to mind-but otherwise, this is something of an anomaly in the British political field. We like our racist bigots stupid and ignorant. In fact, we like to imagine that only the most stupid and ignorant of all people lack an open mind, or equality values, and all that other wonderful fluffy stuff we like to hold close to our chests as civilized citizens. The British Publick do not, for example, imagine that someone as intelligent as Carol Vordermann is going to don a large white cloak and tear around London stringing up ethnic minorities. But Vordermann is also a Cambridge Graduate (or is it Oxford?) and she’s also beginning to associate herself with the Conservatives, a party whose elitism may not be racially motivated but it certainly wells up from the same murky springs. Is this a case of marginalizing the so-called ‘racist bigots’, who are now almost more unpopular than paedophiles?
The second and equally subjective reason is that despite Mr Griffin having graduated from an establishment that produces some of the most intelligent brains this side of the Atlantic, he did a remarkably poor job of defending his ideas and policies on that notorious Question Time episode, other than beating the audience’s heads around with them, like some kind 0f gigantic politik hammer. This of course would allegedly appeal to the ‘common denominator’ of QT viewers, the unemployed and disillusioned working class types who simply want results, but can’t we give these people a little more credit than that?
I’m not hugely disgusted by Griffin or his laughable polices, although he is admittedly rather easy on the eyes, because his ideas are simply that: laughable. If the poor bastard can’t shamelessly defend them on QT-although his view on Islam did come very close- then he hasn’t got a hope of hell in getting in. I’m just amazed that, due to graduating from Cambridge, his IQ must be a damn sight higher than most people expected.
I’m all for crazy, out there political ideas- Hell, we could use some to lighten up the debates- but if the perihelion to madness in our times is going to be old Nick spewing out his racial venom on TV then I must say I’m a little disappointed. I don’t care if a guy is advocating world peace or world domination – I just wish the ones in the latter pool could articulate themselves a little better.
