Monday, 27 April 2015

Mango Time?

The longest, dreariest, most stage-managed and over-analysed election campaign in living memory grinds on - still another ten days to go (which, according to 'strategists', means that the electorate might now be beginning to think about which way to vote - so what was the past five weeks about?). It's almost enough to make you wish you were in Venezuela - well, leaving aside the fact that it's a Socialist Paradise that manages to translate huge oil wealth into grinding poverty for the masses. At least their politics is livelier. The other day a female voter lobbed a mango at the beleaguered Presidente, Nicolas Maduro, connecting with his noggin. It carried her telephone number and was flung as a way of drawing attention to her housing problem - and it worked. Cannily El Presidente turned the situation to his advantage by getting his 'people' to call her and tell her the Pres had fixed an apartment for her, as part of the 'Grand Venezuelan Housing Project'. If only a few mangoes - or any other soft fruit really - were heading the way of our political leaders in these dying days of a becalmed campaign. With perhaps a small haggis reserved for Wee Nicola Sturgeon...


  1. Here's frau Flick of the macstapo, being given a grilling by a recipient of the grand order of nepotism. The political pigmy seems somewhat uncomfortable and does what she was set on this planet to do, through her teeth.

  2. God it's depressing. I still hold out the hope that the pundits are all going to be wrong, a la 1992. As Charlie Drake and Peter Gabriel put it, You never know...