Alea Jacta Est

So the votes are all in, the die is cast, as it were, and London awaits with bated breath. Can the weary-looking incumbent hold on, or can the bumbling oaf take control, only to wash all the good away? It’s been kind of interesting, to see how the battle (as in almost all elections - see the States for instance) starts of in a genteel, non-abusive manner, but so quickly descends into out and out name-calling. And so it was here.

An interesting night in local elections also, as Labour slipped to third. For all the LibDem’s non-entityness of late, they’ve at least pulled something out of the night. Let’s hope Clegg can pop that cork out and sort out the general election. Yuck. Conservatives.

Depressingly, the BNP have gotten a grip in Thurrock, alongside their council seats in Barking & Dagenham from last time round. It’s truly depressing that people who vote for the BNP are classified as sane and unimprisonable, and are therefore allowed a vote. Filthy.

I was talked at by a girl in the queue last night at Shropshire Hall. She was looking at the instructions poster on the wall and said to me, “I don’t know what any of these mean, I don’t know what London assembly is. My cross is just going to mean nothing.” Everyone received a booklet telling you what to do and what everything meant. If you can’t be bothered to read or to pay a little bit of attention, what on earth do you think you’re doing voting on important things? The world is populated by idiots.

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