Fifty indecisive days
All to find out whether May’s
strong and stable Brexit menu
was really worth a deadly venue.
And so, here we are. Today is The Big One. Can Jeremy the Giant Killer triumph over Wicked Witch Theresa Maniac? Or – from the Blue corner perspective – will Mother Theresa knock out Jereslov Commievitch on her way to the Fight of the Century against Eurogroper Guy Verkarpetbagger, the Beastly Belgian Bruiser?
If you’ve spotted some pugilistic analogies jabbing through the prose there, well done. The parallel is I think quite apt, in that politics and boxing share many oddities, idiosyncracies, and fighters rendered punch-drunk by overstaying their welcome either in the House Bar or the Ring.
Take, for example, the fact that we refer to a boxing ring, when it is patently obviously a square. No doubt Yvette-Coopervision could render it a square, for like most politicians made myopic by ideology, she remains unconvincingly convinced by her ability to square every circle. Given time, let’s face it, Yvette could convince herself that Mike Tyson and Tyson Fury are abandoned infants desperately in need of our sympathy and help.
But just as politics has Coopervision, so the punch-drunk boxer has double-vision. This sad by-product has been exhibited by Theresa Mayormaynot on a daily basis since Round Seven, when her Party published its manifesto….a veritable manifest of electoral poison. Having delivered a clinical uppercut to her own chin, Mauler May’s multiply sighted disability convinced her that the twenty key policies in there were in fact forty strong. You don’t like us stealing your house? In that case all we want is a few slates off the roof, because I’m a few slates short on the roof myself as it happens. I need a strong hand to negotiate a Hard Brexit, but I can see a soft outcome in there. I saw Esau sitting on a seesaw, I saw you saw me in half but I see me be ibble obble Babel, strong and stable.
Of course, every boxing fan loves a Left hook, and in the buildup to this fight Coalbin the underdog has surprised everyone with his ability to land Jeremy’s Jolter on any critic doubting his ruthless streak. It took only two Jihadist atrocities to turn Jezzer the Jam-making former IRA sympathiser into Dirty Jerry the Shoot-to-killer. Yes, beneath that squeaky-clean exterior lies Corbocop the Crusader….as somehow, we always suspected.
In the old days, every legendary fighter had a nickname: The Ghost with the hammer in his hand, the Brown bomber, Ingo the Bingo and so forth. This election has been, if nothing else, a contest about the old days. Those sporting the blue rosette are on a back-to-basics pilgrimage to Roman cruelty, while the Reds are marching forward into 1931. So it seems appropriate to give tonight’s Election Special that sort of build-up: a contest, if you like, between the Blue Circus and the Red Square.
It promises to be quite a bout. But if you haven’t got a clue what it’s really about, don’t ask me: I’ve about as much idea as the next person. Apparently it’s all about turnout, so we’ll just have to hang about and see how it turns out.
We’ll know that at 8.30 pm tonight when Dimblebey wheels out the BBC’s exit poll. It is almost impossible for these to be wrong. Not long after that I’ll be in bed with a good book, although you have my word as a rake that all offers from bad women will the considered and replied to.
All I can say with certainty is that it’s a winner-take-all contest. The Election, that is – if any Prime Minister can be a winner given what lies ahead. Were I a contender, I’d be looking to take a dive.
Either way, remember: what you see is absolutely not what you’re going to get.
Late Flash: The Slogometer predicts 40 seat Conservative majority