Politerrific?

(Just so you know: I’m not a Tory.)

The recent Norwich North by-election, and in particular the news coverage of it, brings a tiny amount of excitement to me. As you know, I am a young person, and the thing that every young person wants these days is to be famous and to be on television and to have a multi quintillion pound record deal with Simon Cowell and to have seventeen gazillion Twitter followers. (Well, almost the only thing – there’s also an ambition to be more realistic with numbers. Ha!)

What’s that got to do with anything? Well, I live a spitting distance from Norwich, as the crow flies – if I were to spit out a crow (and spitting out a crow is the only thing to do, because crows taste disgusting) in the direction of Norwich, it would get there – and any news people who have not gone home yet could easily nip over here to do a report on my pioneering adventures in pen storage. It is the summer, which is what they call the “silly season”, so I’m sure they’d welcome a story that’s a bit serious and interesting for once – one can soon become bored of hearing about water-skiing budgerigars and Shane Richie’s rhododendrons.

Of course, it’s a massive shame that we’re slowly marching into the evil hands of a gruesome little man whose face is likely to explode when he gets elected, and that the Tories’ popularity among the mustard-eating idiots of Norwich (an oxymoron, that) is yet another sign of the distressing inevitability of our country’s misery. But stop being so miserable and pessimistic. That glass is half-empty, which means that you’ve drunk some of its contents, which means that you’ll soon be visiting the toilet which will give you an opportunity to read more of your favourite magazine.

Interestingly, the scary Conservative lady who won the competition looks uncannily like Ed Miliband. I wonder whether they are the same person. There is moley spying going on. She could well be Miliband in drag, or vice versa. No wonder Mr Miliband’s profile is far lower than that of, say, his brother Mr Miliband (see below) – he’s juggling two lives.

To illustrate my point, here is a link to image of the Conservative lady and here is an Ed Miliband equivalent. There’s such a distressingly ridiculous similarity that it’s quite a wonder that I managed to get those links’ targets the right way round. It’s extremely fortunate indeed that I am such a razor-sharp-eyed and quick-witted individual. A lesser man would probably have bollocksed it up.

See what I did there? I deliberately mixed the links up, and then riffed about how I they were definitely not mixed up and how only an idiot would mix them up, until it was exceedingly obvious that I am being clever and self-effacing. Irony!

Of course, the previous patronising paragraph was nothing more than a helpful clarification for readers who need to drink some coffee. It was absolutely nothing to do with me thinking that you readers aren’t very clever, or my ridiculous shallow need to make sure that this article has precisely 700 words (as counted using the Word Count Plus Firefox plugin, to count the number of words in the Textile markup that I’m writing here deep within the bowels of my Textpattern administration panel).

See what I did there? I denied the pathetic truth with such vehemence that it became clear that, actually, what I was denying was quite true. Yet more juicy irony. And now I’m just carrying out a back-up plan, in case it wasn’t clear to everyone.

It’s OK. I am allowed to shut up now. Enough words. Too many, in fact. Haven’t I changed direction? Is that ironic? I can’t remember.

I was originally going to mention Ed Miliband’s brother, David Miliband. There’s a funny picture of him holding a banana. He’s more important – when I Google Image Searched Ed, Google suggested that I might be thinking of David, but not vice versa. But there’s even less of a likeness between he and the Conservative lady, unfortunately. Never mind, at least I slipped a link to the banana picture there. If you squint, something resembling a chuckle may come out of you.