I suspect they could get nearer to 95 per cent just by subtly tweaking the question to ‘Have I not got any idea what this is really about?’
The problem is there’s no ‘control’ UK, in other words there’s not another country that wasn’t a member of the EU to compare things against – in the same way I don’t know how my life would have turned out if I’d not had a kid, as there’s no control Frankie. Sadly he died in 2006, on the rim of an erupting volcano in a knife fight with his nemesis, ‘control’ Phillip Schofield.
When people have no real choice you start to embrace the irrational. That’s why the very poor are often preyed on by mediums and spiritualists. And that’s exactly what voting for UKIP is, really: the sort of irrational decision we make when we’re powerless. UKIP are political tea-leaf readers encroaching on the territory of politicians engaged in a sophisticated long con operation, in the same way clairvoyants used to infringe on the swindle being worked by the Church.
But what a great year it’s been for Nigel Farage. After all that Olympic nonsense, it’s about time the St George’s Cross was reclaimed by arseholes. UKIP fielded so many candidates in local elections they had to admit they didn’t vet them. They got them like pub football clubs get a team on a Sunday morning – ‘Hello, have you got your own shorts? Right, you’re the candidate for Haverford West.’
A UKIP candidate was shown with a knife between his teeth and holding a Union flag. For one glorious minute I thought he’d killed Geri Halliwell. UKIP’s politics are a little vague but I think the main one is to take the trillions wasted on diversity officers and use the money to fund a time portal taking us back to 1972.
UKIP have pledged to get us out of Europe – which might be a bit tricky given where the country is. David Cameron’s been warned he has to take Nigel Farage seriously, a hard task given that he’s got a face like an indignant gecko. The likes of UKIP have some nostalgic view of a lost Britain of supportive communities. Sorry, bampots, but these communities still exist; it’s just that they’re Muslim and Sikh. Amusingly, Farage tried to escape from a gang of Scottish protestors by hiding in a pub. Which is like trying to hide from a lion by putting on a zebra costume.
Cameron called UKIP supporters ‘odd’. Which is a pretty fair description of anybody who thinks the Tories are too pro-Europe. UKIP candidate Geoffrey Clark’s manifesto says foetuses with Down’s syndrome should be aborted. There is an argument for the compulsory abortion of some foetuses but how on earth can you tell in the womb if a baby is going to grow up to be a UKIP candidate? As Geoffrey’s already in his late sixties, I’m sure he’ll allow himself a chuckle at the irony when his family smother him with a pillow so he’s no longer a burden on them.
After weeks of riots, Greece was burning. Troubling times, but it must have smelt gorgeous. Our rioters were criticised for stealing things rather than making political points; the Greeks burnt down Starbucks. I actually have more respect for our rioters coming away with more than pride and a travel mug. It’s sad to see the inventors of democracy doing so badly at it – it’s much like watching the English play football.
In their election, Greece had no clear winning party and was reluctant to form a coalition. It’s quite something when a country of homeless people setting fire to bins don’t want to make the same mistakes as the UK. The Greek parties say a coalition would be a tragedy. This is a country that defines tragedy as pulling out your eyes in exile after killing your father – the difference being that with our coalition you’d be expected to work through your blindness and set up a co-operative to bury your father.
I’ve always said that their outgoing prime minister Papademos wasn’t good with finances. Ever since 1993, when band-mate Pliers made off with all the royalties from their hit ‘Tease Me’. I’ll admit I’d no idea the Golden Dawn were a Greek neo-Nazi party. Especially as for the last five years that’s where I’ve been getting my lemon chicken and spring rolls from.
The £110 billion bailout to save Greece was called a failure hours after it was signed off. A sad day. Greece used to be a proud and progressive country, just 2,400 short years ago. The IMF are worried about economic growth – to be fair, it’s quite hard to go shopping when a balaclava-clad teenager has just thrown a petrol bomb through the menswear department.
Greece invented maths, democracy, homosexuality and philosophy. Then nothing for a long time. Now they just break plates. They’re like a genius who’s had a mental breakdown. I think a big problem is that one of their main industries is smoking under trees, while a feral cat scratches their chair leg. Everything there is now up for privatisation. I want to buy Lesbos because I’ve got an idea for a theme park. Of course, not everybody’s suffering in Greece; at least there are now a couple of teargas billionaires.
British tourists have slept with so many Greeks the whole country is now officially considered an ‘ex’. We’ve got a bunch of their stuff, they owe us money. And there’s more of our spunk in their sewers than in every sperm bank in the UK.
Angela Merkel was greeted by thousands of angry protesters when she arrived in Greece. There was an awkward moment when protesters picked up bricks and petrol bombs – then started running around trying to find something that hadn’t yet been vandalised. Fortunately, the majority of Athens’s most valuable treasures weren’t affected – as the riots didn’t come very close to the British Museum. The only comfort in seeing the greatest civilisation the world has ever known crumble into decay is the knowledge that one day the same fate will befall America.
It’s quite sad, really – we’re threatening Greece to accept our help when they yearn to be strong and independent, as if we’re forcing a £50 note into the bloodied, trembling hand of a sobbing teenage prostitute. It’s a shame that China will finally take over Europe by buying it as I was rather looking forward to seeing the attack formations of their swarms of robotic bees. Greece, if you think you’re angry now, just wait until you’re eating egg foo young out of a pitta bread.
Actually, I’ll be interested to see what happens – round my way every place that goes bankrupt gets turned into a pound shop. Greece could end up being 50,000 square miles of scourer sponges and Pritt Sticks.
In Cyprus people were unable to withdraw money, mainly because there were fifteen camera crews standing in front of every bank. A Cypriot MP said Cyprus was being raped by Europe; then once Ryanair flew all the stag parties back to Birmingham she discussed her financial problems. Rape’s not the correct analogy; there’s no one inside Cyprus because Cyprus is frightened they will be killed if they say no, but I’m sure we could arrange for an American occupation if anyone can find some oil.
There are great fears that Cyprus will end up under the control of the mafia, but Europe’s intervention isn’t yet guaranteed. In debt to the Russian mafia or in debt to Europe? Tough choice. Face threats of a slow death by radiation or be made to watch Angela Merkel make small talk over a vol-au-vent whilst she forces your daughter into prostitution.
Sport exists because we’re so emotionally damaged and distant that we need a shared narrative to be able to relate to each other. You’ll have done that thing where you find yourself round someone’s house and the telly is on and you don’t know each other that well, but you interact by making shared reference to this third thing? Sport is just a larger societal version of that, playing pointlessly in the corner of the national imagination. A neutral conversation piece, a very basic way of making sure you’re not talking about politics or love.
