Cameron and Skinny Cameron’s Political Marriage on the Rocks
It all began so well. The election was over, Conservative bums would soon be warming seats in Westminster. Cameron had done well, or as well as he could have, under the circumstances. He drank Guinness from cans and knocked up his wife and made hey, so much hey, out of Gordon Brown’s natural toadyness and unfortunate habit of being overheard telling the truth. It was all about David now, but he still had one ass left to kiss. His name was Nick Clegg. That skinnier, less successful David Cameron with the hot wife.
He wooed Clegg the same way he tried to woo the rest of Britain. He showed off his down-to-earth side, his family-man side, his modern-twist-on-tradition side. No fancy, tax-deductible restaurant meal for these chaps, no no, Cameron invited Clegg over to his house for a home cooked meal. Just some ham and potatoes, nothing special, and dear old SamCam didn’t lift a finger! Cameron cooked the meal himself, which is very progressive of him, hopefully Cleggy noticed. They had some drinks, then some laughs, then the lights grew dim and Cameron moved in for the kill. A few days later the two were posing outside Number 10. Cameron was officially PM, and Cleggy… well Cleggy was his deputy, and a very handsome one too.
Now the cracks are beginning to show. Cleggy, not content to be Cameron’s body double, has decided to assert himself. Apperently he thought being deputy PM entitled him to do things. One of those things is holding a referendum on the whole electoral system to see if he has a chance of squeezing a Liberal-Democrat government out of the U.K. somehow. He wants a preferential voting system, which I will speak to out of my vast experience as Trinity College’s DRO for a year. Not quite a year… didn’t really do anything until March.. then I quit early too….meh. I’m pretty sure my experience is applicable to a country of 60 odd million. We had preferential voting there, and it hardly matters. The person with the most votes initially always ends up winning anyway. The only difference is that it takes an assload of time to count ballots. So Cleggy’s plan is really just an attempt at a power grab in the guise of populism. Little parties like to do that, and they’re generally not allowed because, well, they’re just little. But Nick Clegg is in bed with the big boys, so he has privileges others don’t. David Cameron should have told him that these privileges are more, manicures and designer shoe type privileges, not so much policy. Take him out for lunch, Dave, give him your gold card and get him out of your way for a bit, ok? He’ll never learn his place if you keep taking about business with him and then let him talk into any microphone he fancies.