Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 7th April
The day was set to start with an auspicious fanfare – lunch at the local tavern; followed by my inaugural speech.
I have opted to record events for the benefit of our nation as a whole. And why should I not? I am constantly hearing about people I have never even heard of – and reading about things I certainly have no interest in reading about. So why shouldn’t I publish my journal and offer some well-chosen observations, likewise; especially when contesting an election of considerable significance? It will hardly be of limited interest: touching as it does upon the great themes of life, work, and success-despite-the-odds. It will undoubtedly acquaint the younger generation with the ways of the world – which is of obvious importance, as one seeks to make one’s way in the self-same.
Unfortunately, engine trouble meant we had to walk in order to avoid being late. More disagreeably still it began to rain just as my wife and I set out – and by the time we arrived, the expected crowd had long since dispersed. Manager was evasive on the subject of the press being absent – despite previous promises he had made on this. Table was not bad – situated very conveniently next to the kitchen; but lunch arrived cold. No matter what the waitress might have said, Beef Wellington is not supposed to be a salad.
Nonethless, my speech was undoubtedly well received by the (appositely named) regulars. For the record, it proved far wittier than even I had imagined; though it comes across somewhat inferior in writing, than it evidently did to the assembled listeners. Practical necessity undoubtedly played a part here. It is a trifle difficult to address contemporary issues adequately, while keeping one eye on posterity. Also, if there is an innate fault with the English language, it is that what is written on the page can often come across as irritable, and even quarrelsome, when it is in fact cordial, insightful, and erudite – amongst many other things besides.
Speech was scheduled to last the full hour; but in the event, fell somewhat short. Devoted the remaining 45 minutes to a question and answer session. I was asked only one question – and common decency alone means I will not repeat it here. Suffice to say, the rumour is largely inaccurate; and is invariably levelled at those who inspire envy. In response, I played a straight bat, didn’t say anything stupid; and walked away relatively unharmed. But I digress.
As I climbed the lounge podium, I felt the hand of destiny upon my shoulder. Normally reserved for karaoke, today it would herald a new dawn. The full text of my speech ran as follows:
“Ladies and gentlemen – I am a simple man, as those who know me often remark; but despite being a traditional sort of fellow, I can see that we need a new, trouser-hoisting politics; with true hair-on-the-chest leadership. When I have mentioned this previously, many people have suggested that Britain, as one of the most densely populated countries in the world, has no need of further density. Well, to them I say ‘This is where I come in’.
As a self-made man, my life story is more than fitting for political office. In no sense a scientific sample, you understand, but my own upbringing surely serves as an unerring bellweather for right-thinking folk everywhere.
I grew up in the humblest of circumstances, born without advantages in an NHS hospital, before being educated at the local comp., and all the while growing up on a council estate – it is clear that I made my own way in life, without any input from others. I then, entirely through my own efforts, managed to build up a successful business – using nothing more than pluck, and commonsense. And yet now the government has the temerity to tax me as if I owed the nanny state a single penny. I’m sure that all right thinking people will agree that it really is quite disgraceful.
[I would note there were murmurs from the audience at this point. More than one empty glass was raised in salute]
My main policy will be to advance the cause of personal liberty, and clamp-down hard on the Brigades P.C., Human Rights, and Bleeding Hearts respectively – not to mention similar nefarious organizations. What is the Women’s Institute for, incidentally?
It is because of them that England is no longer the country I grew up in. Admittedly, I spent the majority of my formative years in the Costa Blanca; where – foreshadowing our country’s membership of the EU in many ways – the truculent locals would quite deliberately avoid speaking English, despite being perfectly capable of it, I am sure; and instead, disagreeably insist on speaking foreign, much to the chagrin of well-meaning British patriots. But this is beside the point.
Our country is now a bewildering place. Every day I open the paper to find that yet another social grouping have taken umbrage at some relatively mild comment, or well-intended situation. A person can no longer ask for a pint in their local watering hole – instead, they must request 0.56th of a litre. We are no longer allowed to hold nativity plays without at least one member of the cast being female – not that one wishes to encourage alternative lifestyles, as such; nor can we demand that the more confounding sorts keep their disagreeable customs where they belong. What’s more, it is simply impossible to say ‘Christmas’ in polite company, these days. All because the Europeans are unwilling to admit that Jesus was British.
It is why one can no longer give those in one’s employ a sound walloping when they fall short of expected standards – not without a visit from the arbiters of Health and Safety, at any rate. It is why the once proud country of Great Britain has been virtually a communist state since 1979.
The absence of moral fibre in the young is the whole problem – Europe and leftists (along with a few other things) not withstanding. When I was young, I dreamed of being a self-made man. Well, I made my own dreams come true. I didn’t go looking for handouts from the state every five minutes. Instead, I pulled myself up by the drawstring. I didn’t loaf about complaining about inequality – no: because I had better manners than to do so.
I suggest that our country takes this as their model in life from now on. The only people who will object to this eminently sensible scheme will be those who are so consumed by leftist envy that they cannot recognize plain commonsense when they see it. But I do not ask for their votes: I ask for yours”.
I departed the podium at this point. Applause followed. It was suitably restrained, and dignified.