If Red Ken gets a third term as Mayor of London, I’ve done my part. He wasn’t my first choice, mind you, but since the election is really going to come down to second choices anyway, I felt I had the luxury of making a point by setting up the Green candidate as my first choice. I know she’s doesn’t have a chance in hell, and I’m not sure I would actually want to see her as Mayor without a lot of clarification on where the funding for her policy planks is going to come from, but sometimes making a statement is good.
I think a Green mayor with some hard-headed guidance on policy and finance would be a good thing, but so would Ken with a Green Assembly putting some pressure on him, which is what I’ve tried to get. But I digress.
As I was walking out of the polling station, having duly deposited my green sheet, my pink sheet and my cream sheet, I happened to be walking along the street behind two boys who, as it will be seen, turned out to be dimwitted trolls. One of them turned to the other one and expressed this noble sentiment:
“So, like, there’s no point in voting, innit. I mean, those guys have it all set up, innit. Voting’s not going to change that, innit.”
I would like to remind those of my readers who do not reside in the East End that “innit” in the context of this peculiar dialect is, strangely, not a question but a statement. I find this odd, but that’s the way it is, innit.
Anyhow. The entire point, you utter cretin, is to try and make a change. If you feel that people are fat cats setting themselves up for a cushy lifestyle, get out there, vote, and change it. Sitting around making moralistic statements to your mates is the best way to guarantee that what you’re so certain of. Dimwit.