Angry. Angry now. Oh for the sake of any god you like, why are people so damned stupid?!
If you manage, through some freak moment of misguided naivety, to get a tiger and a lion right next to each other, you’ll notice several very distinct differences. Before they turn you into a bleeding pulp of Darwin Award winner. Admittedly, yes, they’re both big cats; they both have four paws, a tail, a cute little muzzle filled with teeth perfectly evolved and capable of killing stupid tourists posing for stupid photos. But around there, the similarities end.
One is stripey, so to save confusion, we’ll call this one Tiger, as that is what it is. It’s stripey, generally a sort of tan-orange colour with black stripes, designed by nature herself to blend it into the sun dappled shadows of the jungles in which it hides and stalks its prey.
The other, we’ll call Lion, is a sort of dusty-sandy colour, with a bouffant that any drag queen worth her eyelash curlers would be proud of. Its sandy coat hides it brilliantly in the open plains in which it lounges around letting the females hunt. Now, yes, the females have no up-do, but they also have no stripes, and neither lions nor lionesses live in jungles, just the plains.
Now with the knowledge in hand that one is stripey and lives in verdant green jungles, while the other is not stripey and lives in the wide open plains, how are people getting the two confused? It’s not bloody difficult. Stripey jungle, hairy plain. Easy. But not as easy as choosing politicians.
None of them.
Every politician, to date, has been a lying, back-hander taking, snobby, brain-dead example of excessive stupidity better equipped to deal with their own thieving, moronic mates than a country desperately in need of improvement. You’ve all had a year to get me into power, and I must confess, I’m disappointed. The government has been dissolved ahead of the general election, when the next stupid, grasping, back-pedalling carbuncle on the arse of hope will be chosen, along with his fawning posse of arseholes, to further drive the country into sadder, more desperate times of misery and despair.
You could have had me! I will bestow upon you a simple truth: We, the masses and the many, outnumber the privileged and spoilt, by a hell of a lot. They are the 1%, and even the most drunk and stoned of maths students know that 99% is really rather a lot more than 1%. They, the few, have all the friends and the money, but what they have is finite and cyclical. We have the many, the numbers and the reasons. If you sell underpants for £200 a pair, you’ll only sell to a very select few a month, say 10 people, so £2000, but, if you sell them at £2 a pair, you’ll sell a hell of a lot more, to the many more people who need cheap pants. The pants by the way, have more than likely been made in the same sweatshop, but they just have different labels sewn in. Those cheap pants, you’ll sell to at least 2000 people, giving you £4000. The many ants pushing the tree will surely have more success then one pushing it.
The politicians we have promise, and lie. They promised to drop tuition fees, they raised them. They promised to help the mental health care, they ignored it. They promised to cut taxes and raise basic pay, they lied.
Get me in power people, you’ve been slaving for the toothless, clawless leech, that crawls in the sludge, taking all and giving nothing. Get me in power and I shall show you the tiger that stalks its helpless prey through the ferns and roots of the dark and mysterious jungle of hope. I will show you the proud lion that speeds across the open plains, running down the antelope of apathy.
And I will drag this country, its broken body, through every puddle and healing mud until it stands, proud and determined, glaring at the face of loss, tearing its victories from the bleeding chest of determination.
Vote for Tilf.