A televisual reminder of why this election is the worst thing ever
|
Version 0 of 1. If ever you needed a microcosm of why this general election has been the absolute worst thing that mankind has ever been forced to endure, you only have to look as far as BBC1’s Question Time special. Everything about it was a dismal reflection of the campaign so far, which has essentially been the political equivalent of watching ineffectual parents trying to meet the berserk demands of a truckload of tyrannical infants at a birthday party. A won’t sit next to B, B wants to go bowling with C but won’t go at all if D is there. E keeps throwing tantrums because C’s milkshake is bigger than his. And now we’ve had to abandon the whole thing entirely because D keeps going on about how much he hates foreigners with Aids in the middle of Wimpy and we keep getting dirty looks from the other diners. Related: Miliband: I won't have Labour government if it means SNP deal Aside from one and a half debates, stage-managed to the point of absolute stiltedness, the party leaders have shown such a terminal unwillingness to be seen in each other’s company that I’ve started to develop three key theories about them. First, they’re all just one person with really good makeup and access to holograms. Second: they’re all either Gatekeepers or Keymasters and their combined presence will bring about the terrifying rebirth of Gozer the Destructor. Third: they’re the only people in the world who know the Coca-Cola recipe, and they’re being kept apart as a precautionary measure by the powerful needs of market forces. This approach continued unabated on Question Time, with the two main party leaders – and, adorably, Nick Clegg – kept as far apart as possible; each appearing in their own hermetic little 28-minute capsule, surrounded by an audience whipped into a state of apoplexy by its own self-righteousness. Perhaps it was because everyone in Leeds is perpetually furious, or perhaps it was the fact that for once they didn’t have to also aim their questions at self-promoting newspaper columnists and above-their-stations comedians, but this lot operated on an incomprehensibly high baseline of fury. Imagine someone trying to leave internet comments while fending off a swarm of wasps. That’s how angry they were. The problem was that it was a tediously partisan anger, primed and pre-loaded and completely two-dimensional.To make matters worse, there was a sense that – temporarily freed from having to perform against figures like Nigel Farage and Nicola Sturgeon – the three leaders simply reverted to type. Cameron, still displaying signs of residual pump, continued his absurd quest to turn “stubby pencil” into his “Ooh Betty”, while reluctantly hopping about on the stage like a circus bear on an electrified plate. But all this effort took it out of him; he ended his half hour clammy and pale, like he’d been possessed by a ghoul that had forced him to do star jumps in a sauna. He did, however, prove himself to be fairly adept at the Q-shaped plinth he’d been plonked on, shooting down the tail whenever he wanted to look earnest, like U2 during a ballad. But if he was Bono, Ed Miliband was Robbie Williams; wading deep into the audience, cracking jokes and asking everyone’s name. Again, though, it simply came off as a rehash of his greatest hits: a smattering of let-me-be-clears, a puffed-up I’m-the-leader and – just for the fanboys who’d been with him since the very beginning – an awkward tumble from the plinth as an encore.That just left Clegg, the least impressive headliner since they let Rod Stewart end Glastonbury. His was less a question and answer session and more an extended excuse for the audience to tell him how disappointed they were in him. They’d worn themselves out by that point, though. They’d got too angry too quickly, and now they were crashing. The swings they took at Clegg were so lazy and well telegraphed that he managed to bat them away without even looking too ashamed. By the end of it, everyone was knackered and nobody’s mind was changed. The only winner was the man who made David Dimbleby’s tie, and all he won was a Most Disgusting Tie in Living Memory award. I cannot wait for this election to be over. |