Did you see the local BBC news last night? I was on it, live outside the town hall. I’ve been up half the night watching a boring by Election program and I’m so tired, I can’t stay in bed today though, I’ve got a gig in Grimsby later on.
Shayne Slider, my agent, rang me early yesterday morning to tell me to get down to the polling station at the town hall because the local BBC evening news program wants to do a short feature about the way people vote. I had to hold a microphone and ask young people what they think about current affairs. I thought that was a bit weird. I know politicians like to put it about a bit, but should we really be discussing who’s banging who on the six-thirty news? I mean, it’s usually all boring stuff about new bus lanes, Grannies who knit coats for chickens and whistling lollipop men.
I wasn’t all that pleased when Dad first shouted me down to be honest. It was only half past ten and I really fancied a lie in, but when he told me what it was all about I got really excited. Dad was going to be there anyway, canvassing for the Labour party and Gran told him if he was going, she was going too and got her crayons out to make a Conservative party poster. Dad said Gran doesn’t even like the Tories; Gran agreed but said anyone was better than the Commie bastards Dad supports.
I had a quick breakfast of cereal, boiled eggs and soldiers, toast, jam, tea and a croissant, showered and got dressed in my low, white top, the one with the flower embroidered on the left boob, and that short, floral mini skirt that got blown into our garden when we had the high winds last autumn. I wore my black four inch heels but that was a bit of a mistake as my feet were killing me after a couple of hours.
Dad gave me a lift down to the town hall and set himself up with his, Vote Labour, placard near the entrance. There were already some people there from the Conservatives, the Lib Dems and UKIP. On the end was a little old bloke wearing a yellow, chicken’s costume and sunglasses. His placard said, Free Everything for Old People. Vote Yellow Chicken/ Blue Stilton Alliance Party. Near the door was a policeman in uniform, he kept checking his watch as if he was late for a crime.
The evening news crew were just setting up, so I wandered across and introduced myself to them. The Cameraman, a guy called Zac, gave me the once over, got me to stand in various poses, then saved the recording to a memory stick. ‘That’s for my own collection,’ he grinned.
The producer’s name was Timothy Taylor. He was a quite young to say he had such an old duffer’s name. He shook my hand and told me what he was hoping to get from me during the day.
After a couple of practice questions they let me loose on the unsuspecting public. First up was a girl of about my age with a short, spikey hair and a lip ring. I knew straight off that her clip would end up on the cutting room floor because her dress sense was abysmal. Continue reading