I remember David Cameron’s resignation speech, post-EU referendum. Then came the drastic “holy shit our government has just collapsed”, and then came the knowledge that we’d have a female Prime Minister as his replacement. And, to be completely honest, I had faith. Surely no woman could be as much of a disaster as Cameron had been, even with Brexit looming ever closer, we all told ourselves. I remember Googling May and Leadsom, weighing up their policies, deciding whether either of them was likely to cock things up any more. Nah, surely not, right?
Oh, how wrong we all were. We should have learned from the infamous #takebackcontrol bus sporting the lure of £350 million for the UK that, as always, politicians are not to be trusted. Although that’s just a fact of life, really – always has been.
Mrs May has, until now, been adamant about her attitude towards a snap election – and there’s video evidence to prove it. Although saying that, we’re in the age of ‘alternative facts’ now, so I guess even that doesn’t prove anything any more. And now she decided to call an election, when her party just happens to be buzzing with popularity, when Corbyn’s too busy being away with the fairies to notice, and when she’s apparently just becoming bored of making the English about the most hated people, not only in Scotland, but on the planet.
So, that’s all a mess. But another thing we have to think about is who we actually trust enough to vote for; this is particularly difficult for us young’uns, because for many of us it’s going to be our first general election, and in all honesty we don’t know what to do. Since, of course, we aren’t taught any of this in school – teachers avoid the topic of politics at all costs for fear of being hung, drawn and quartered. Having only recently turned eighteen myself, I have no idea what I’m doing. And no idea who I’m voting for, since no-one can stop Brexit now.
Yes, I know that only 36% of 18-24 year olds turned up on that fateful day in June last year, and I accept that we could have made more of a difference if we’d voted. But we read up on these things, we try to do our research, and this country’s politics are so screwed that we can’t win either way. We might as well just stay at home and turn more of our brains to mush by spending a couple of hours on our phones, to be honest. It makes for a less painful and doomed future if we’re so hindered by our technology that we lose touch with reality. Sorry, Grandad, but I’d rather spend all day amusing myself with Snapchat filters than trying to reason with your generation of politics.
So now, I guess, we wait. We’ll wait until the 9th of June when everyone’s ironically voted UKIP and Googled the consequences later. Orwell will be classed as a philosopher rather than a writer of fiction, and Twitter will be blowing up with outrage almost daily. No doubt, as a precious little snowflake, I won’t be happy with the consequences – maybe this time the politicians will realise we’re so ‘sensitive’ because they keep fucking up the place we have to live in for the rest of our lives, and we’ll have to clean up their mess later.