As my country stumbles towards a new general election which offers the opportunity to choose between a turd sandwich, a turd roll, a turd wrap or a turd baguette I find myself somewhat befuddled by the archaic manner in which many people see the world. The days of the political spectrum are long gone, thus it is amazing to witness the death of the idealists.
The people of the United Kingdom are being asked to choose between the party that wishes to murder foxes with dogs, a party that hates jews, a party that hates gay people, a party that hates foreigners and a party that nobody knows anything about other than the fact that they want to save the planet. It largely is an election fought between contemptible arseholes obsessed with hatred and a bunch of hippy vegans. For the first time in my life, it is not the vegans that concern me.
The politics of division are in no way a new idea. It is an idea as old as building straight roads, watching men fight to the death and orgies. And yet it is a pattern that is visible and repeating itself across the globe as political parties have realised that it is easier to unite people in hatred than to plan a manifesto of substance and that in itself will prove to be the beginning of the problems of tomorrow.
After last year’s Brexit referendum I wrote a short allegorical story. By the time I had finished it no longer felt quite relevant. Yet, here we are again. Eleven months later the politics of fear and scaremongering have returned. And suddenly the same reasons which compelled me to write the story are relevant again, meaning that I only have one option:
To celebrate the forthcoming election I will publish ‘The Non-Stop Dancer’ on June 8th. Check back here on the day to find out how to get your copy.