Ring the bells that can still be rung. Forget the perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That is how the light shines through.
Look on the bright side. It’s almost over. Finally. For the last four weeks, broadcasters have tested the principle that it is insanity to do the same thing over and over again and expect an outcome other than catastrophe.
We’ve tried every variation on the debate topic. Keir Starmer vs Rishi Sunak head to head. That was awful. Then we’ve had a couple of seven-man debates. The less said the better. Party leaders interviewed individually by the presenter and the audience. Please, no thanks. There was even a debate with idiot Chris Philp. Channel 4 will never do that again.
There were some odd moments – Sky’s Beth Rigby was aggressive, the Question Time crowd did their best and the Sun’s Harry Cole elicited some insight – but anyone who actually made the mistake of listening to the whole thing will feel like they’ve been force-dosed on benzodiazepines.
Overall, we learned nothing more than we already knew. Rishi may have been even more cranky than we had imagined. Keep an eye on the Techometer. And Keel got better as the weeks went by. Apparently you can teach an old dog new tricks.
But forget about the intellectual debate. The same non-answers, the same half-truths, the same evasions. Nobody is very wise about what the new government will look like on 5 July. We’re not even allowed to talk about the Institute for Fiscal Studies, which predicts austerity and tax increases await whoever takes power.
Since when has this country become so miserable? We can’t even enjoy football anymore. Unless you’re Austrian. Unless you’re Slovenian. No wonder so many people turn up to reformist events. Not only are they the only gatherings to which the public is invited, but Nigel Farage is the only politician who seems to be enjoying himself. Everyone else is in a coma or terminally depressed. Where is the joy?
The BBC newsroom in Nottingham may have been buzzing in the hours before the final debate – a rematch between Starmer and Sunak – but the rest of the country was indifferent. Enough was enough. The final 75 minutes of the debate were nothing more than a final fainting parade – literally in some cases.
Oh, I want to be one of them. Who doesn’t want to black out for the next week and leave it to chance on voting day? At least then we’ll avoid some of the unenlightened bullshit that’s coming our way. Gambling, honey traps… What’s next? An orgy of sex and drugs? What is it with our wannabe politicians?
Apathy starts at the top. The Conservative central office is a death zone these days. No one turns up. Most of the cabinet has disappeared to watch reruns of Pointless. Their best chance of keeping their seats is to cut ties with Rish!.
Leaving the stench of failure behind, Lord Big Dave has emerged only to make matters worse, making his own presidency seem less dire. All that remains are a few malfunctioning bots emitting strange cries for help at X.
But the show must go on in the House of the Dead. A cruel and pointless performance. If anyone can inject meaning into this meaninglessness, it’s Mishal Hussain, the BBC supersub who replaced the injured Sophie Raworth.
We started with gambling. No surprises. Sad faces. Riche repeated that he was too angry to do anything. Kiel didn’t really have anything else to say after that.
The most disturbing thing in the room was the screaming coming from outside. Or maybe someone was just begging to be let out. So soon. I can’t blame them.
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It was all downhill from there. In other words, what we heard was the same well-rehearsed tidbit we’ve heard so many times over the past few weeks, except this time it was on steroids. Mr Sunak decided he had his last chance and was determined to fight. He repeatedly interrupted Mr Starmer and Mr Hussain, speaking like an overly entitled teenager pontificating at the Oxford Union. There was no one he didn’t favour.
The Techometer swiftly slid into the red as Keir earned the first round of applause by pointing out that Sunak wouldn’t make such outlandish statements if he listened to his audience. Starmer didn’t have it all down; he often looked surprised, even confused, as if it had never occurred to him that Rich! might not play by the agreed rules. It was only towards the end that he regained his composure.
A flurry of promises and angry outbursts ensued. On the small boat, Mr Sunak continued to insist his plan was working and that thousands of migrants would be sent to Rwanda within weeks.
“We must not surrender the border,” he repeated over and over, sounding like Churchill in a pound shop. It’s interesting that Starmer chose the word “surrender” from a man who acts as if he is already prime minister, but has no track record to uphold.
When the conversation turns to economics, no one notices when Hussain points out that they’d be better off listening to the IFS. We hope so. Risch grows increasingly grumpy, as he always does when things aren’t going his way. His only human moment is when he talks about his excitement at receiving the keys to a penthouse in Santa Monica. We can all relate.
Both men received roughly equal applause. Not surprising. The audience was evenly split between Conservatives, Labour and undecideds. As always, it was a draw. Nobody won, nobody lost. So it was pretty much a waste of time. The best question was, “Are you two really the best choice for us?”
Sadly, the answer is yes, because in an election of despair, neither candidate has been able to offer any hope. We are being led by desperate people.
