There’s an old Chinese curse which roughly translates as ‘May you live long, and through interesting times.’ It’s generally understood to mean I hope life throws a whole pile of rocks at you, but that’s only one interpretation.
Well, folks, times have certainly been interesting here in the UK for the past week or so. General election time is always pretty eventful, although the news-following public could be forgiven for thinking that all the assorted wars, famines, oil spills and murders which normally make headlines had simply ceased to happen for the duration.
Let’s face it, it’s far more fun to watch the prime minister making a total ass of himself (I think I mean ass in both the donkey and the American sense there) by leaving his radio mic on for all the world to hear him insult a harmless old lady. And all the technicolor electronic wizardry the TV channels use to predict the final result on the basis of the first three seats – that’s better entertainment than a three-ring circus.
And the last five days have been the most entertaining of all. First of all, which way would the Liberal Democrats jump? Then, how much were the Conservatives willing to concede to get the Lib Dems’ full support? And a couple of days ago, were the Lib Dems serious when they called the other side, or was it just the political version of a gun to the Conservatives’ heads?
What larks, Pip.
Last night it all came to a conclusion in what felt like a matter of minutes. Gordon Brown resigned. He’d clearly had enough; it was somebody else’s turn to insult old ladies, visit the Queen every week (those two are not connected) and field the flak the media inevitably hurl at whoever holds the reins. The someone else is David Cameron – but not without a lot of backing from those tricksy Lib Dems and their leader the lovely Nick Clegg.
So now the pressure’s off, we have to wait and see what happens. I foresee more interesting – or at least entertaining – times ahead. Someone said last night, when Cameron goes off on paternity leave (his wife is five months pregnant), will Nick Clegg step up as prime minister for a few weeks? Answer: since it looks as if he’s going to be deputy PM, he probably will get to sit in the big chair for a while, though I expect there’ll be an open mobile phone link.
I know I should take politics seriously and get involved in all the debates and discussions, but I’ve lived through a dozen or more general elections. Governments come and governments go and I like some of them less than others but I can’t say my everyday life has been made noticeably different by any of them. Strikes, wars, explosions and inflation seems to happen whoever’s in power. So when another election comes I just sit back and enjoy the show. At least Cameron and Clegg are both easier on the eye than poor old granite-faced Brown. Oops, sorry, my inner politically incorrect demon surfaced for a moment there. She's back in her box now.
None of the above has anything at all to do with crime fiction. This isn’t something I indulge in often, but the last few days have been such fun that I hope you’ll forgive me for letting my digression habit get the better of me for once – especially since I’m the only Brit left on the regular team now.
This time next week I’ll be enjoying the warm sunshine (yeah, OK, enough with the hollow laughter) in Guernsey. My deputy Dead Guy for the week will be my daughter Meriel, who, when she’s not being an Oxford academic, forms an essential part of the family business Crème de la Crime appears to have become. If you’re a debut crime writer looking for a home for your manuscript, she’s the one you have to impress; she reads the new submissions, and gets a large part of the say in which ones move forward.
See you in a fortnight.
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