15st 6lb, zero units. I have been wondering why I don’t much like David Cameron. It’s not that I’m even considering voting for anyone else at the endlessly forthcoming General Election. Support for the Conservative Party is as deeply ingrained in me as a passion for Newcastle United is in my most of my fellow Geordies. But I shall vote for the party under his leadership with decidedly less enthusiasm than I did when it was under the guidance of Michael Howard, William Hague, John Major or even, God help us, Edward Heath.
Why should this be?
I suppose part of it might be naked class prejudice, but for the fact that, as an old-fashioned Tory, I have always secretly hankered for the leadership of proper toffs like Harold Macmillan or the 14th Earl of Home.
I might be more influenced by the fact that, in his one proper job outside politics, handling PR for Carlton Communications, “Dave” acquired a reputation for being what one normally very politely spoken lady financial journalist described to me as “a lying c***.”
Then there is the fact that he does not actually appear to stand for any proper, old fashioned Tory policies (slash taxes, send a gunboat, close ‘em down, string ‘em up, send ‘em back), preferring to focus on modish waffle about being “green”, hugging hoodies and just loving women and ethnic minorities, bless them.
But deeper than all that, I fear, runs the simple fact that he looks a bit ODD. Which is why, if I were in charge of the Conservative Party’s advertising, the last thing I would have done is to devise a 48-sheet poster entirely filled with his oversized, airbrushed face.
It’s not that he’s exactly ugly – though he’s even more definitely not handsome. He just doesn’t look right, somehow. And nor does his increasingly high profile wife. I can’t put my finger on why, precisely, but they both look to me as though they were designed by aliens who hadn’t quite mastered the art of doing faces. Which is, by common consent, the hardest bit. Discussing this over lunch today, a colleague who once fancied himself as a bit of an amateur artist confessed that he was not at all bad at life drawing until he got onto the face, whereupon it all went tits up every time.
Could it be that we are on the verge of an alien takeover? Was David Icke right all along? David and Samantha Cameron are actually giant lizards in disguise. Yup, seems entirely plausible to me.
I’ll still vote for him, though, just as Newcastle United’s many loyal fans will continue to back their team even though it is owned by a man who cannot be compared to a giant lizard, even in this blog, without causing gratuitous and unacceptable offence to the entire giant lizard community.
Life could be worse, you could have been American and had to choose among the troglodytes here. (With apologies to honest, clean living, hard working Troglodytes everywhere).
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