Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« "Blogs = nothing but trouble"Sniff »

None of the above

  Sat 17th November 2012

"Look at this," said one of the hundred electors (a turnout in our ward of 9.9%) who came into the polling station. "This is what voting has come to in this country. There should be a policeman standing outside all day, we should be in a proper polling station, not a nursery, and you should be in a suit and tie."

I arrived at the polling station at 6.15am with the screens and the boxful of stationery and other paraphernalia, and started to set things up. The poll clerk arrived a little later. I was relieved that we got on and that he didn't seem to mind that as the senior member of staff there I was a good bit younger than him. You're spending sixteen hours with these people, with no breaks other than going to the loo.

It was chilly, with having to keep the door open, and ineffective heating that went off at 5pm. It was a very slow day, but not as slow as in the polling station at Bettws, Newport, where not a single voter turned up. My poll clerk started and finished a novel, and I almost finished Moll Flanders. At 10pm K--- started turning the place back into a nursery, while I did the paperwork. We took everything down to the leisure centre and got away by about 10.45. Wide awake on adrenaline, I had a couple in the Sun Hotel. A group of women were doing that screaming, over-laughing performance of female solidarity.

The hardest bit is always the morning after. Still stunned with the leftovers of curtailed sleep, I got back to the leisure centre for 8.30 where we had a training session on the Single Transferable Vote system.

Despite the fact that they'd only got away the previous night at midnight and had to be back at the leisure centre at 7am, the staff from the Council set high standards: good-natured, friendly and well-dressed, especially the Head of Flipcharts, my Council Crush, with her lovely slightly touseled dark blonde hair, wearing a silkily strokable creme blouse and straight grey trousers which perfectly almost covered her black kitten heels.

Our team made not a single mistake in the entire process, every complicated cross-matched stat coming out right first time. Nothing had to be recounted or opened again, and we were waiting for other less efficient tables to get it right. An excellent spoilt ballot did the rounds: someone had photoshopped the ballot paper, keeping to the same format as a normal one, but changing the pictures and names to Judge Dredd, Robocop, Dirty Harry, and Batman.

Lancashire's result was declared at 4.30 and I went back into town for a pint. Looking at myself in the pub's mirror, I was shocked at the gaunt, haggard face looking back at me.

I thoroughly enjoy working at the elections. It makes me feel involved with and sympathetic towards my Local Council. There's a cameraderie amongst the permanent and temporary staff, the representatives from the political parties. Blokey jokes, the same ones every year, keep spirits up. "Sleep? Don't be so soft!" "It's not hard--you've only got to count to twenty-five. A thousand times."

Raggedly-dressed young volunteers rushed about keenly with clipboards, making sure you're counting the votes correctly. Labour sent its contingent of busty, painted, fortysomething women aiming at glamour and missing. The Green Party and the Conservatives parody themselves. The LibDems were too embarrassed this year to show their faces, so we missed the grey-haired middleaged academic-looking women, all human rights and yoga.


Comment from: furtheron [Visitor]

Good for you for allowing us to continue the hard fought right to vote… shame it was for an election we should never have (IMHO politics and front line policing should be left in the 1930s). I feel so sad at such a poor turn out and to think I voted as I feel I should, I mean my Granddad was poisoned in the trenches to allow me to etc. but I didn’t agree with it! 21st century… really?

Sat 17th November 2012 @ 20:56
Comment from: [Member]

I think people were torn between the idea of wanting to uphold the principle of being able to vote, whilst not interested in this particular instance of that freedom. Trina said the same thing–as a woman, she wanted to vote, and did, but it feels that the the principle of democracy is being exploited for the wishes of this ruling class.

Sun 18th November 2012 @ 02:06
Comment from: Homer [Visitor]

I spoiled my ballot for the first time ever.

Sun 18th November 2012 @ 20:33

Form is loading...

looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 60 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll defunct, but retained for its quality
George Szirtes ditto
Infomaniac [NSFW]
The Joy of Bex
Laudator Temporis Acti
Leeds's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
The Rambler
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained

  XML Feeds

Online manual generator

©2024 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | b2evolution skin by Asevo | Content Mangement System