May 7th 2015
Today I’m going to tell you why I’ve not voted in the General Election.
This is the first time I’ll have been eligible to vote, as I was under age during the last one. But this time round, although I’m eligible by age, I am not a registered voter.
And here’s why.
I have talents, to some extent. I can write. I’m pretty intelligent, good at maths, fairly well rounded in most areas of general knowledge, if I ever went on The Chase I’m fairly sure I’d win about £1,000,000.
But there are two very specific areas about which I have no knowledge.
The first is history. Why was World War One started? Haven’t the foggiest.
Who was the Egyptian president in 1406 BC? Tutenkah-not a clue.
Who was the 16th King of England? It’s probably something like George, or Harry, or Severus or something. The third or the eighth. Yeah.
My other blind spot of general knowledge is politics.
I know literally nothing about politics or parliament or referendums or hangings or Cleggs or Cameron’s or Centibands other than the fact I know what parties they each represent because all three have Twitter accounts.
I know nothing about how to run a country, and I reckon David Cameron knows a hell of a lot more about it than I do.
I’d probably do him over in The Final Chase, but if there were any politics questions I’d be screwed.
I don’t know what makes a good prime minister. I’m sure they all have a very long list of reasons as to why they would make a good PM, that has been meticulously nitpicked by a team of highly paid/skilled/qualified political PR people who also know a hell of a lot more about politics than I do.
If Cameron wants to bung the NHS, I’m sure he’s got a good reason for doing so. He’s not just doing it for the banter.
If Clegg wants to raise University fees to £25k a year then it’s probably a good idea. It might defer the roiders and drunks that come to University to colour in some activity books doing their health and social care degrees whilst slamming back fourteen double vodkas every night whilst I have an exam on Tuesday. (I’m not at all bitter)
If Centiband wants to make a giant stone plinth full of his ten commandments, then… Well… Actually that one seems a bit daft to me. But what do I know? I’m just a layman with zero knowledge of politics, parliament, or plinths.
Whomever is my prime minister when I wake up, I’m sure will do a far better job than I would/could.
Until tomorrow, I’ll just leave it to them.