And so today was “Super Thursday!” Yeah – another sh*t title invented by the media, ’cause they just love wacky and meaningless titles.
They do it in America after all, so why not here?
Because just f*ck off with it please. It’s Thursday. The only thing ‘super’ about it is that I don’t have to force myself to watch Question Time.
Anyhow, the point of “Super Thursday!” (i.e. 5th May 2016 – i.e. ‘polling day’) is to vote for someone you’ve never heard of to do a job that’s hopefully important enough to warrant all of this – whether that job be Councillor, Mayor, or Specially Elected Police Jobsworth. It’s such a ‘Super Thursday,’ however, that some folk don’t have anything to vote for at all – although they do at least get to watch the unfolding PR catastrophe that is #VoteConservative on Twitter.
Unfortunately for David Cameron (he of the dead pig and deader UK recovery fame), he has been unable to partake in the day’s democratic activities, as he’s been so busy shouting politics that he forgot to register to vote.
He turned up with SpamCan (who somehow got time off from her busy work schedule to attend) to vote in Westminster (despite being the registered MP for Witney) but was promptly then turned away by the Poll Clerk.
“Do you know who I am?” Mr. Cameron asked furiously. The Poll Clerk replied calmly, “of course I do, but you have failed to register to vote, and your name ain’t on the list, so I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Cameron – getting redder and redder – angrily confronted the clerk and exclaimed “This is ridiculous! I demand a vote. It’s my right as Prime Minister! Sort it out, now!”
Once again, the clerk remained calm with his reply “Sorry Sir, we cannot make exceptions for anyone, not even the Prime Minister. Oh and Samantha’s not registered either. Soz”
“It’s your fault! It’s Labour’s fault! If it wasn’t for Labour, none of this would have happened! Bastards!” screamed Cameron, as he stormed off in a rage.
“I will rig this! You hear me? I will rig the sh*t out of this! I rigged the General Election – you think that I’m scared to rig one more vote? I rigged my engagement to Samantha, for f*ck’s sake – DO YOU REALLY THINK SHE WANTED TO MARRY A MAN WHO SHAGS LIVESTOCK!?”
The Prime Minister’s rage was so obnoxiously loud that it was heard as far away as Trafalgar Square by a man who was thinking about lobsters in a Pret a Manger bathroom. Michael Crick heard it too – whilst playing that tune from Young Frankenstein on the world’s smallest violin and attempting to out-stare a goat.
Seeing as not even Nigel Farage or Jayda Fransen forgot to register, this will probably go down in history as the third most monumental cock-up that the pasty-faced Prime Minister has had this week. Or fourth. Or fifth. Depending on how the rest of the week pans out of course.
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