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Ring the bells that may still ring. Forget your perfect proposal. There is a Crack in everything. This is how the Light enters.
Look on the bright side. Almost over. Finally. For the past four weeks, broadcasters have tested the axiom that insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different result to destruction.
We had every possible variation on the subject of the debate. Head-to-head with Keir Starmer and Rishi Sunak. It was a disaster. Then there were several seven-way debates. The less said the better. Party leaders interviewed individually by presenters and audience. Spare us. We even had debate with dimwitted Chris Philp. Channel 4 will never do this again.
There was a strange moment. Sky’s Beth Rigby was combative, the Question Time audience gave it their all and the Sun Harry Cole provided some insight. But anyone who’s actually made the mistake of going through with it will feel like they’ve been force-fed a benzodiazepine.
Overall, we didn’t learn anything we didn’t already know. Rishi may have been even sharper than we imagined – keep an eye on the Tetchometer – and Keir is getting better as the weeks go by. Apparently you can teach an old dog new tricks.
But as for intelligent debate, forget it. The same non-answers, the same half-truths, the same digressions. No one is much the wiser about what the new government will look like on July 5. Heck, we’re not even allowed to talk about the fact that the Institute for Fiscal Studies predicts we’re in for austerity and tax hikes whoever gets in.
Since when did the country become so miserable? It has become impossible to even enjoy football. Unless you’re Austrian. Or Slovenian. No wonder so many people flock to reform events. Not only are they the only rallies to which members of the public are invited, Nigel Farage is the only politician who seems to be enjoying himself. Everyone else is in a coma or in extreme depression. Where is the joy?
The BBC’s Nottingham spin room may have been buzzing in the hours before the final debate – a rematch with Starmer and Sunak – but the rest of the country was apathetic. We’ve already seen enough. The final 75-minute debate is no more than the final fainting parade. Literally in some cases.
Oh to be one of them. Who wouldn’t want to be unconscious for the next week and take a chance on Election Day? At least that way we could avoid some of the unedifying nonsense coming our way. gambling, honey traps … what next? Sex and orgies with drugs? What is happening to our political candidates?
Apathy starts at the top. Conservative central office is a dead zone these days. There is no one to be seen. Almost every cabinet minister has disappeared to watch reruns of Pointless. Their best chance to keep their seats is to disassociate themselves from Rish!.
Far from the stench of failure, Lord Big Dave surfaced only to make matters worse. That way, his own tenure at No.10 doesn’t look so disastrous. All that’s left are a few non-functioning bots that emit strange cries for X’s help.
But the show must go on in the House of the Dead. A performance that is both cruel and senseless. And if anyone could put any meaning into the nonsense, it was BBC super-sub Mischael Hussain, filling in for the injured Sophie Raworth.
We started with gambling. No surprises. Sad face. Rish! repeated that he was so angry that he was forced to do nothing about it. Keir really didn’t need to say much after that.
The main interest in the room was the shouting coming from outside. Or maybe someone was just begging to be let go. So soon. You can’t blame them.
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It was all pretty downhill. In other words, what we heard were the well-rehearsed soundbites we’d heard countless times before over the past few weeks. Only this time on steroids. Sunak had apparently decided that he was in a last-chance gym and had decided to go out and fight. Again and again he spoke of Starmer and Hussain. It was like listening to an over-entitled teenager playing grown-up in the Oxford Union. There is no person who does not patronize.
The Tetchometer quickly went red as Keir received the first round of applause to indicate that if Sunak bothered to listen to the people in the audience, he wouldn’t be so indifferent. Not that Starmer had it all his own way. He often looked startled, even confused. It was as if it had never occurred to him that Rish! may not play by agreed upon rules. Only towards the end did he regain his composure.
Promises and flashes of anger came in rapid succession. In small boats, Sunak continued to insist that his plan was working and that he would send thousands of migrants to Rwanda in a few weeks.
“We must never betray our boundaries,” he repeated over and over. Like Poundshop Churchill. “Surrender” was an interesting choice of words from a man who acted as if Starmer was already Prime Minister. Again, he has no defensive record.
No one was the wiser when we got down to economics and Hussain remarked that we would be better off listening to the IFS. If only. Rish! he grew increasingly suspicious, as he always did when things didn’t go his way. His only human moment was when he talked about his excitement at getting the keys to his Santa Monica penthouse. We can all relate to that.
Both men received roughly equal amounts of applause. No surprise there. The audience was split evenly between Tories, Labor and undecideds. It was a tie as these things always are. Nobody won, nobody lost. So it was pretty much a waste of time. The best question was, “Are you two really the best choice we have?”
Unfortunately, the answer is yes. For in a choice of despair no man could offer hope. We are led by the hopeless.
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