The Blacks Stars are home again – huge crowds turned out to party and welcome them at the Kotoka International Airport. The next day the team were paraded around Accra in their bus. Each player is to receive 20,000 US$ and hefty payments have been made to the members of the Ghanaian FA, not to mention the huge sums forked out to fly government NDC supporters out to South Africa to support the boys. President Mills invited the returning heroes to the Castle and there are hints of more honours to come. Wow!! All this for a team that reached the quarter finals.
In the cold light of day it is hard to escape the despondency and disappointment after the defeat by Uruguay. There is an implicit acknowledgement that such an opportunity will never present itself again. Never mind that the team only managed two goals (both penalties) in the Group stage and to be honest only progressed to the knockout stage courtesy of the Aussies who unexpectedly and rather fortuitously beat the Serbs. Yet people really came to believe that the Black Stars would at least be the first African team to reach the semis and even win the cup for Ghana and Africa. With the whole continent behind them the Black Stars were ready to conquer the world and head for glory.
So where did it all go so wrong? The players seemed to be relaxed and confident – playing for each other. Laid back - gambling into the early hours of the morning – easy to approach - in sharp contrast to the paranoia surrounding the English camp. And then came the match – after a rather poor start the Black Stars scored the all important goal just before the break – it should have been a psychological knockout blow. But back came the skilful Uruguayans, equalising from a long range speculative shot that Kingson misjudged catastrophically – all level and everything to play for. Into extra time – the Black Stars struggling to make any impact, the Uruguayans visibly tiring and then the drama and bitter disappointment. Denied at the very last minute, betrayed by a handball on the line and then Gyan blasting his penalty against the bar. The rest is history – two poor penalties – the game lost and the dream smashed.
The recriminations continue up and down the country, throughout Africa even. Endless futile demands that the rules should be changed, that a goal should have been awarded and that no punishment is severe enough for the cheating Uruguayans. Right now the country is celebrating their exit from the tournament. But it is hard to imagine that any other player from any other team behaving differently in the same situation - the automatic response to protect your goal. If Gyan had scored nobody would still be talking about this – but nevertheless it has been a bitter pill to swallow. Others blame the penalty taker – forgetting that Gyan had the courage and bottle to step up and take the first penalty in the shoot out. But in the end it is all fruitless – the game is done – to be honest the team tried hard, they battled and at times truly shone – but sadly they could not deliver. One friend said to me if only Essien had been fit and the team had a decent centre forward – what a different story that might have been!
So what now? Some are calling for the sacking of the coach and there is much discussion about the wisdom of employing foreign coaches in favour of locals (heard that one before somewhere?). But to be fair Milo has done a great job – moulding a team together – and don’t forget the guy faced death threats and had his house burnt down in Serbia. The future looks bright – a strong squad of young motivated players –their time will come again. But instead of fat bonuses to the players and their “Handlers” there is a desperate need to invest in the game at the grassroots level both in Ghana and Africa as a whole. It is a crime to see the vast profits being generated by FIFA through this World Cup (not to mention the draconian laws being implemented to protect those profits) with such small returns for the continent. Africa remains a bargain basement supermarket for footballers and they can be found plying their trade at all levels across Europe from Bucharest to Moscow and from London to Stockholm.
It was great while it lasted – I can’t remember being so excited about football for a long, long time – it was an amazing adventure and a wonderful dream. I leave the last words to our friend Grace – “We lost because God was looking after Ghana”. Already before the Uruguay match at least 12 people had died and hundreds of others been injured in the celebrations after each game. So God conspired to save Ghanaian lives (forget the Uruguayan hand of God). Although Grace went on to tell us that so many people were in comas brought on by their disappointment – you just can’t win!!
Thursday, 8 July 2010
Sunday, 27 June 2010
The journey continues......
The morning after – I am still hoarse from shouting and worn out from this rollercoaster white knuckle ride. Go Black Stars, Go Ghana. Hosai Ghana! Last night battling our way through the crowds after the game – “Are you happeee? From your heart? We won your people!!” Just about everybody is on the streets – barefoot snotty kids, grandmas, Assembly members – all come out together to celebrate their heroes. Cars with flashing lights and blaring horns speed through the heaving mass of dancers - singing, drumming, screaming hordes.
“If God is with us anything is possible” – an enduring image – Goalkeeper Kingston – arms held aloft to the heavens – guardian angel of the Black Stars goal. He has become a favourite – at times brilliant, at others erratic – “eccentric” in the words of one pundit. In the game against Germany he played a blinder but in the end even he could not prevent a goal. At the other end the forwards just could not find the net. It was left to the men of oz – and the hand of God – to save the day, running out unlikely winners against a polished Serbian side, that could not take their chances. Fate again saw the Americans score in the very last seconds to clinch top spot and set up last night’s game.
Feverish speculation up and down the land about the lack of goals, the tactics of the coach – the scruffy Serb who doesn’t speak English – his loyalties questioned. The Pastors working overtime to win heavenly grace and who knows what juju sacrifices as the country prepares to take on the might of Amerika. One man tells me that he is relieved that Ghana is not playing England, “our colonial masters” so that unnecessary tensions can be avoided. It is hard to grasp how much this means to everyone – forget the happy, colourful, sanitised multi kulti Africa presented by the international greed machine – here in the sweaty heat, the dirt and dust, nothing else matters – the Black Stars carry the dreams and aspirations of the whole of Africa and they are proud.
The Minister of Communications has urged discipline and modesty in the celebrations to prevent “ill effects” – wasting time! On Saturday the town closes – the whole of Ghana shuts up shop – only one thing now on everyone’s minds – the game. The excitement and apprehension mounts as evening approaches. Flags, whistles – the vuvuzela – the hour approaches. One common belief, one faith – Go Black Stars. The game at last kicks off – and before anyone has settled Prince Boateng has run half the length of the pitch to score a cracking goal – hysteria – have to check that we are not dreaming. Someone grabs me in a great bear hug - “I love you, I love you people”. Singing, dancing, we are on the way. Half time – so far so good but then the tide turns. After the break the yanks are off the block and take the game by the scruff of the neck. A goal has to come and sure enough they win a penalty – all square. For the rest of the game the Black Stars are on the back foot, restricted to occasional counter attacks and defending for their lives.
Extra time and somehow – by God’s grace – Black Stars get a new burst of energy and within minutes they are back in front – Gyan scores a brilliant goal – brings tears to the eyes. From then on we all know they can do it. Everyone runs their socks off – this is a team that plays together, for each other – Kingston holds the fort, sinking to his knees at the final whistle, giving thanks to God. The dream a little closer, the eyes and hearts of afrika – hosai Ghana – stumbling home, shaking hands, embracing, cheering – yes we are happeeee!
“If God is with us anything is possible” – an enduring image – Goalkeeper Kingston – arms held aloft to the heavens – guardian angel of the Black Stars goal. He has become a favourite – at times brilliant, at others erratic – “eccentric” in the words of one pundit. In the game against Germany he played a blinder but in the end even he could not prevent a goal. At the other end the forwards just could not find the net. It was left to the men of oz – and the hand of God – to save the day, running out unlikely winners against a polished Serbian side, that could not take their chances. Fate again saw the Americans score in the very last seconds to clinch top spot and set up last night’s game.Feverish speculation up and down the land about the lack of goals, the tactics of the coach – the scruffy Serb who doesn’t speak English – his loyalties questioned. The Pastors working overtime to win heavenly grace and who knows what juju sacrifices as the country prepares to take on the might of Amerika. One man tells me that he is relieved that Ghana is not playing England, “our colonial masters” so that unnecessary tensions can be avoided. It is hard to grasp how much this means to everyone – forget the happy, colourful, sanitised multi kulti Africa presented by the international greed machine – here in the sweaty heat, the dirt and dust, nothing else matters – the Black Stars carry the dreams and aspirations of the whole of Africa and they are proud.
The Minister of Communications has urged discipline and modesty in the celebrations to prevent “ill effects” – wasting time! On Saturday the town closes – the whole of Ghana shuts up shop – only one thing now on everyone’s minds – the game. The excitement and apprehension mounts as evening approaches. Flags, whistles – the vuvuzela – the hour approaches. One common belief, one faith – Go Black Stars. The game at last kicks off – and before anyone has settled Prince Boateng has run half the length of the pitch to score a cracking goal – hysteria – have to check that we are not dreaming. Someone grabs me in a great bear hug - “I love you, I love you people”. Singing, dancing, we are on the way. Half time – so far so good but then the tide turns. After the break the yanks are off the block and take the game by the scruff of the neck. A goal has to come and sure enough they win a penalty – all square. For the rest of the game the Black Stars are on the back foot, restricted to occasional counter attacks and defending for their lives.
Extra time and somehow – by God’s grace – Black Stars get a new burst of energy and within minutes they are back in front – Gyan scores a brilliant goal – brings tears to the eyes. From then on we all know they can do it. Everyone runs their socks off – this is a team that plays together, for each other – Kingston holds the fort, sinking to his knees at the final whistle, giving thanks to God. The dream a little closer, the eyes and hearts of afrika – hosai Ghana – stumbling home, shaking hands, embracing, cheering – yes we are happeeee!
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Ghana 1 Serbia 0
The whole town is on the streets, people cheering, waving flags, blowing their vuvuzeola, deafening horns - yellow plastic courtesy of MTN, official sponsors . Wow – the Black Stars did everyone proud – played their hearts out and deservedly won. Heart stopping moments – Serbia down to ten men but with fifteen minutes left to play, suddenly looking dangerous – Kingston the keeper makes a stunning save – we breathe again and then the penalty. Cool as ice – our man number three, Asamoah Gyan steps forward – no mistake – he buries it away – everyone on their feet ecstatic. The whole place erupts in joy - dancing, screaming - heaven. The rain has stopped – the telly held out – no power outages today – we are on our way. Go Black Stars – Go.
Party o
We are ready - Go Black Stars, Go
It is Sunday morning - just a few hours to go, prayers are being said in churches for our heroes - don't let us down - onwards to victory and new glories. The whole place will come to a standstill, streets empty, silence except for the roars and cheers when the goals go in - we hope. A tough match, the opener, against a tough team - Serbia and mixed loyalties for the Black Stars coach - but an overwhelming confidence and anticipation that we will do well - especially after the Africa Cup of Nations.
It is rumoured that President Mills flew out yesterday to join the boys at their training camp - to motivate them and remind them of the heavy burden they shoulder on behalf of the nation - it all rests on you! Kofi Annan, big football fan was there too - he thinks that the young team have big hearts and will deliver the goods. Hard to imagine David Cameron doing the same - play to win chaps!
Football frenzy - Africa. The incessant, continual babble of everything football - television, radio, street corner - we will win, we will win. Mesmerising Messi - our arch rivals the Super Eagles played off the park by all accounts. Shaky England, poor tactics and poor goalkeeping (every keeper's nightmare - takes me back to childhood dreams and agonies between the sticks). Or is it the new fangled Ball doing strange things, flying long and unpredictably, or some terrible conspiracy - radio controlled to take out the enemy?
Everyone loves to talk and talk and shout - I have never seen people get so excited about the smallest decision, throw in, goal kick, anywhere - even by football fan standards everywhere - at one recent game someone even demanded that everyone stay for a post match review - wow and that is in the claustrophobic sweat and heat of a tin shack with fifty hot bodies pressed together in front of a small screen.
In Accra the whole city is awash with flags, banners, caps, shirts exhorting our heroes to win. Every street hawker has something football to sell - plastic hooters, wall charts, wrist bands, streamers - berating any taxi driver they find who does not fly a flag. Here in Ho it is a little more low key - people dont have the spending power of their city compatriots but it is no less passionate. Everywhere you go people want to talk about the match.
So - the minutes are ticking away, the build up is on - I have my new Black Stars shirt but first need to get to the market to do the shop. Soon people will cluster and huddle around every television and radio - Africa World Cup - we are ready - Go Black Stars - Go!
Sunday, 6 June 2010
"Under Arrest"
The other day we were walking into town with our friends Theo and Nelleke. At the T junction where the Accra road meets the main Ho high street – known as “Civic” – a huge, ancient articulated truck had somehow managed to overturn, spilling its load of hardboard and blocking traffic in all directions. Quite a spectacle!
Another lorry had arrived and a gang of young workers, sweating profusely in the midday sun, were transferring the spoilt loa
d to the new vehicle. They were keen to pose and asked me to take photos – showing off and joking. After a few snaps I walked around to the other side of the overturned lorry as the others walked on, needless to say fascinated by the huge lifeless wheels, poking in the air.
I was just focusing when two policemen shouted – stop – come here – are you a journalist – do you have permission to take photographs – you should have asked us – sit down – you are under arrest – we are taking you to the police station. I am bemused, a little overwhelmed by the quick fire orders – all a bit surreal but sit down and keep a smile on my face – plead innocence. I explain that the workers had asked me to take photos – it is not against the law to take photos etc –my inner voice telling me to stay calm, but it cuts no ice.
The smaller of the two coppers, bloodshot eyes, mean looking in camouflage fatigues – really not very pleasant at all – keeps drilling me. He seems determined to take me to the station, muttering that he should confiscate my camera. It is all getting a little weird now and it begins to dawn on me that maybe they are serious and at the very least this is going to involve some cash. By now the others have tweaked what’s going on and Kiran arrives and begins to plead my case. How can you arrest my husband – I will be alone – she begins to build a bridge with the younger, junior officer.
Then Nelleke notices his name badge – he is called Evanz – an unusual name, which he claims to be Dutch. Ah ha, we are Dutch too, handshakes and greetings – a new conversation begins. His first name in Grunski – that really does seem to be beyond the realms of probability – Evanz Grunski. No matter – the ice is broken now. While Alex, the older, mean cop grimaces and makes angry grunt like noises, Grunski loosens up – soon we are all the best of friends – or at least Kiran, Theo and Nelleke are all getting on famously with Grunski.
We have won. Now it is a matter of time – I will go free – no dash. We exchange ewe greetings. I am to be let off this time. I am even invited by Grunski to take pictures – I decline. Finally after more endless handshakes, Grunski tells me about a visit to Scotland. A similar experience – being asked by locals what he is up to. I remind him though that he wears a uniform. We smile – one final handshake and a high five. I escape and catch up with the others, hoping that we do not come across Alex again somewhere down the road and wondering if I am dreaming. Grunski Evanz indeed!
Another lorry had arrived and a gang of young workers, sweating profusely in the midday sun, were transferring the spoilt loa
d to the new vehicle. They were keen to pose and asked me to take photos – showing off and joking. After a few snaps I walked around to the other side of the overturned lorry as the others walked on, needless to say fascinated by the huge lifeless wheels, poking in the air.I was just focusing when two policemen shouted – stop – come here – are you a journalist – do you have permission to take photographs – you should have asked us – sit down – you are under arrest – we are taking you to the police station. I am bemused, a little overwhelmed by the quick fire orders – all a bit surreal but sit down and keep a smile on my face – plead innocence. I explain that the workers had asked me to take photos – it is not against the law to take photos etc –my inner voice telling me to stay calm, but it cuts no ice.
The smaller of the two coppers, bloodshot eyes, mean looking in camouflage fatigues – really not very pleasant at all – keeps drilling me. He seems determined to take me to the station, muttering that he should confiscate my camera. It is all getting a little weird now and it begins to dawn on me that maybe they are serious and at the very least this is going to involve some cash. By now the others have tweaked what’s going on and Kiran arrives and begins to plead my case. How can you arrest my husband – I will be alone – she begins to build a bridge with the younger, junior officer.
Then Nelleke notices his name badge – he is called Evanz – an unusual name, which he claims to be Dutch. Ah ha, we are Dutch too, handshakes and greetings – a new conversation begins. His first name in Grunski – that really does seem to be beyond the realms of probability – Evanz Grunski. No matter – the ice is broken now. While Alex, the older, mean cop grimaces and makes angry grunt like noises, Grunski loosens up – soon we are all the best of friends – or at least Kiran, Theo and Nelleke are all getting on famously with Grunski.
We have won. Now it is a matter of time – I will go free – no dash. We exchange ewe greetings. I am to be let off this time. I am even invited by Grunski to take pictures – I decline. Finally after more endless handshakes, Grunski tells me about a visit to Scotland. A similar experience – being asked by locals what he is up to. I remind him though that he wears a uniform. We smile – one final handshake and a high five. I escape and catch up with the others, hoping that we do not come across Alex again somewhere down the road and wondering if I am dreaming. Grunski Evanz indeed!
Thursday, 6 May 2010
The Start of Project Grace
Michael and I have been going to Adaklu Helekpe for the past 18 months and within a few months of our first visit, we discussed the possibility of building classrooms for children with learning disabilities and a resource centre for adults with learning disabilities. It feels like we have been talking about it for such a long time that nobody believed that we would actually begin the work on the project. Well, it is actually happening now. For more information about Project Grace visit http://www.careducation.org and look in the projects folder and then to Ghana.
Signing of the Memorandum of Understanding:
Last week we went to meet the “Community” and I nearly cancelled the meeting as nobody from Helekpe would confirm it. However, Dr. Amable (Ricky) who is supporting us with the building work said we should go. The reason for no contact from either Vincent or David was that they had no electricity for 4 days and the mobile phones could not be charged! One forgets how much we depend on electricity. Well due to the time of the meeting (3.00 p.m.) only elders of the EP Church ( whose school land we will use for the new buildings) and members of Amenuewe group were present. However, they were the people we needed to be able to sign the MOU so we reconciled ourselves to the fact that we needed to make another trip to meet the “Community”. This project is going to be a community project where the labour is provided by the community. 
Careducation grant provides all the materials. The subject of “soap money” was raised and Ricky explained it as – when people provide free labour, their clothes get dirty and so they need soap money to enable them to wash their clothes. Michael and I had been discussing whether to pay the artisans or not for some time. A previous project in the same school was a community project as well and the Project Manager, Joe Archana, used to provide bags of corn flour, yams, plantains on a regular basis to the people who provided skilled labour. We had been planning to do the same, however, on discussion with the Careducation team in London concluded that the artisans needed to be paid a little sum of money.
Meeting the Community:
The time of the meeting was 7.00 a.m. a shock to our system as we would have to make that horrible trip to Helekpe with a 6.00 a.m. start. Horrible, because the state of the road is appalling and our car (Kofi) has no suspension. The reason for the early start is that it is a farming community and this enables the farmers to attend the meeting and then go on to working on their farms.
Our early morning trip was very trying – the new horn - got shaken about so much it would not stop! – and in the end I pulled off the connecting electrical wire. I knew where it was because the previous week both Michael and I had taken turns in sitting with the mechanic to get the electrics sorted and of course they found a huge problem and so we ended up spending the whole day sitting around. The only advantage was that both of us found out where the hooter is located in the car.
Then the police decided to take a keen interest in where we were going and why etc all the time trying to find a fault with which to ask for money or else they would take us to court. Michael managed to sweet talk his way out this time but there were moments of panic as the policeman would not let go of my licence and then my VSO ID card.
We were only 10 minutes late in the end and surprisingly the meeting had also just started as a man was saying prayers as is customary for all meetings. There were more women at the meeting but only men sat at the top table (of course). Michael and I shared the task of informing the community about the project and a few questions were asked. With the success of Project Grace who knows what might follow next. With that we asked for permission to leave as this is the protocol and said our goodbyes with the children loudly shouting out their goodbyes to the two “Yevus”.
The Assembly representatives come to visit us at home:
We were expecting representatives from the Assembly and the Education department to attend the community meeting to show that we were all working in partnership. We did nt see them at the meeting so assumed that maybe they could not make the meeting. Around 11.30 a.m. I got a call from a man saying he was from Kpetoe Assembly and that they had arrived late for the meeting but had met with David. Now they were on their way to Ho and would like to visit us. I agreed they could come home and then waited until 1.30 p.m. before making a call asking where they were. They finally turned up and so we exchanged names and purpose of their visit, which was to inform us that they had wanted to attend the Community meeting but had some mechanical challenges so got there very late. Michael and I thought well at least they are showing they want to work in partnership.
Signing of the Memorandum of Understanding:
Last week we went to meet the “Community” and I nearly cancelled the meeting as nobody from Helekpe would confirm it. However, Dr. Amable (Ricky) who is supporting us with the building work said we should go. The reason for no contact from either Vincent or David was that they had no electricity for 4 days and the mobile phones could not be charged! One forgets how much we depend on electricity. Well due to the time of the meeting (3.00 p.m.) only elders of the EP Church ( whose school land we will use for the new buildings) and members of Amenuewe group were present. However, they were the people we needed to be able to sign the MOU so we reconciled ourselves to the fact that we needed to make another trip to meet the “Community”. This project is going to be a community project where the labour is provided by the community. 
Careducation grant provides all the materials. The subject of “soap money” was raised and Ricky explained it as – when people provide free labour, their clothes get dirty and so they need soap money to enable them to wash their clothes. Michael and I had been discussing whether to pay the artisans or not for some time. A previous project in the same school was a community project as well and the Project Manager, Joe Archana, used to provide bags of corn flour, yams, plantains on a regular basis to the people who provided skilled labour. We had been planning to do the same, however, on discussion with the Careducation team in London concluded that the artisans needed to be paid a little sum of money.Meeting the Community:
The time of the meeting was 7.00 a.m. a shock to our system as we would have to make that horrible trip to Helekpe with a 6.00 a.m. start. Horrible, because the state of the road is appalling and our car (Kofi) has no suspension. The reason for the early start is that it is a farming community and this enables the farmers to attend the meeting and then go on to working on their farms.
Our early morning trip was very trying – the new horn - got shaken about so much it would not stop! – and in the end I pulled off the connecting electrical wire. I knew where it was because the previous week both Michael and I had taken turns in sitting with the mechanic to get the electrics sorted and of course they found a huge problem and so we ended up spending the whole day sitting around. The only advantage was that both of us found out where the hooter is located in the car.
Then the police decided to take a keen interest in where we were going and why etc all the time trying to find a fault with which to ask for money or else they would take us to court. Michael managed to sweet talk his way out this time but there were moments of panic as the policeman would not let go of my licence and then my VSO ID card.
We were only 10 minutes late in the end and surprisingly the meeting had also just started as a man was saying prayers as is customary for all meetings. There were more women at the meeting but only men sat at the top table (of course). Michael and I shared the task of informing the community about the project and a few questions were asked. With the success of Project Grace who knows what might follow next. With that we asked for permission to leave as this is the protocol and said our goodbyes with the children loudly shouting out their goodbyes to the two “Yevus”.
The Assembly representatives come to visit us at home:
We were expecting representatives from the Assembly and the Education department to attend the community meeting to show that we were all working in partnership. We did nt see them at the meeting so assumed that maybe they could not make the meeting. Around 11.30 a.m. I got a call from a man saying he was from Kpetoe Assembly and that they had arrived late for the meeting but had met with David. Now they were on their way to Ho and would like to visit us. I agreed they could come home and then waited until 1.30 p.m. before making a call asking where they were. They finally turned up and so we exchanged names and purpose of their visit, which was to inform us that they had wanted to attend the Community meeting but had some mechanical challenges so got there very late. Michael and I thought well at least they are showing they want to work in partnership.
A Moment In Time
So – at last the day has finally come – well almost – eleven hours to go - sitting here thousands of miles away – this election, the whirlwind campaigns, all seem very remote and very much not a ground breaking moment of history judging by the bits and pieces of news that have reached us in sleepy Ho.
The big thing – resisted so long – televised debates, US style – the initial excitement and suddenly it is a three horse race as Clegg (described to us by a visiting friend from the UK as a “nobody, a hopeless nonentity”), the underdog takes the nation by storm. Not difficult I suspect – the thought of Brown and Cameron slogging it out against each other – anybody with a half a brain must look better. By the end of the third debate, the overwhelming sense is one of boredom – please no more from these tired, clapped out half wits.
Some other gems – the case of Brown and the Bigot – as he is caught off guard slagging off a life long labour supporting pensioner – Cameron dithering over gay rights – what will play best and to who – tactical voting, that old chestnut – didn’t we always have to resort to that, best of two evils and all that – put forward by three senior labour mps and then played down. A creeping sense of desperation, scrabbling and scratching around in the dust as the spectre of a “hung” parliament looms – one is tempted – hang ‘em all I say.
So what happened to the big issues – the big questions – opportunities to reflect on our hell bent ride into Armageddon/eternity, come what may? A chance to really make a change, a ground breaking historical watershed – nah – no, more of the same, same old tired clichés, same old economic claptrap (prudence!!!?), same old wars, same old corruption, same old, same old. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter anyways – it all feels a bit like fiddling with the deckchairs on the Titanic.
Another image comes to mind, plucky brits stranded on holiday, being ferried back to blighty in a flotilla of small boats, dunquerke style – that’s one we like! So what of these big three leaders? Brown – clapped out and bankrupt in every sense of the word and not to forget the war. Cameron – smarmy, chameleon – you do not get what you see, beware the wolf – compassionate Tories? Bah! Clegg – who? So who would you trust – each one of them desperate not to say anything that might upset or challenge their constituencies – or then again willing to say or promise anything that might win a vote – all things to all people. Power to the people!
So there you go, sitting here – another afrikan night – down the road they are talking in tongues – will it mean anything –or just another roll of the dice? “I love big boobs” scrawled in big letters on the sea wall at Margate (thanks Teddave) – the state of the nation – depressing!
The big thing – resisted so long – televised debates, US style – the initial excitement and suddenly it is a three horse race as Clegg (described to us by a visiting friend from the UK as a “nobody, a hopeless nonentity”), the underdog takes the nation by storm. Not difficult I suspect – the thought of Brown and Cameron slogging it out against each other – anybody with a half a brain must look better. By the end of the third debate, the overwhelming sense is one of boredom – please no more from these tired, clapped out half wits.
Some other gems – the case of Brown and the Bigot – as he is caught off guard slagging off a life long labour supporting pensioner – Cameron dithering over gay rights – what will play best and to who – tactical voting, that old chestnut – didn’t we always have to resort to that, best of two evils and all that – put forward by three senior labour mps and then played down. A creeping sense of desperation, scrabbling and scratching around in the dust as the spectre of a “hung” parliament looms – one is tempted – hang ‘em all I say.
So what happened to the big issues – the big questions – opportunities to reflect on our hell bent ride into Armageddon/eternity, come what may? A chance to really make a change, a ground breaking historical watershed – nah – no, more of the same, same old tired clichés, same old economic claptrap (prudence!!!?), same old wars, same old corruption, same old, same old. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter anyways – it all feels a bit like fiddling with the deckchairs on the Titanic.
Another image comes to mind, plucky brits stranded on holiday, being ferried back to blighty in a flotilla of small boats, dunquerke style – that’s one we like! So what of these big three leaders? Brown – clapped out and bankrupt in every sense of the word and not to forget the war. Cameron – smarmy, chameleon – you do not get what you see, beware the wolf – compassionate Tories? Bah! Clegg – who? So who would you trust – each one of them desperate not to say anything that might upset or challenge their constituencies – or then again willing to say or promise anything that might win a vote – all things to all people. Power to the people!
So there you go, sitting here – another afrikan night – down the road they are talking in tongues – will it mean anything –or just another roll of the dice? “I love big boobs” scrawled in big letters on the sea wall at Margate (thanks Teddave) – the state of the nation – depressing!
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