Beheading the Archbishop of Banterbury with the righteous sword of shouty, poetic activism

Friday, 8 May 2015

Well, gosh. There are a lot of you, aren't there?

So there we have it. You voted for a man who hangs out with Jeremy Clarkson and the racist cheesemonger Alex James. A man who calls women who disagree with him 'frustrated'. A man who patronises other women who disagree with him by sneering 'calm down, dear' at them. A man whose election campaign was based, essentially, on the fact he's supposedly a barbecue-attending, Aston Ham supporting 'lad' while his opponent is a 'North London geek' who can't eat a bacon sandwich properly.

In large parts of the country you chose to put a cross in the box next to a party whose candidates routinely engage in racism,  homophobia and misogyny, all because you reckon you could have a drink with its ale-quaffing leader. In the city where I work, and the town where I grew up,  enough of you voted for this genial bigotry to come in second place, behind Labour.

And so many of you, so many of you, will have voted on the basis of the relentless propaganda from a pair of newspapers which regularly publish prurient pictures of half-naked female celebrities while simultaneously moralising about their sex lives, and whose owner sent his venal minions to harass a seventeen-year-old girl for supporting the geek instead of the laddish misogynist.

So I dedicate this poem to you: every man who saw Cameron say 'calm down dear' and had a naughty little chuckle because ho ho, that's how to put the little woman in her place. Every sickening little shit who says Katie Hopkins 'says what we're all secretly thinking' - that may be true in your case, but not in mine. And every single one of you who voted for Boris Johnson because hurr, Boris is a legend! This is for you  Enjoy your laughs now. Because one day, the ones you laughed at might just make you disappear...

Hey, relax, lads. It's just banter.

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