Dear Local MP – At This Special Time

Viciousbutfair, Going Postal
Palace of Westminster
Martin PettittLicence CC BY 2.0

Just to explain, I was more incensed than usual, just very recently, at a propaganda sheet pushed through my letterbox. It was from my local MP, I’ve not named the constituency but it is easily discovered from the content of my reply to him. I just wanted to make this clear so that you realize it is not a rant whilst I’m sitting on a park bench with a bottle of Merrydown and shouting at mallards. I’ve sent this off but I rather doubt there will be a reply or that he will even see this, although perhaps my name ‘may go on a list.’

Dear Local MP or may I just call you Local, although you’re not?

You were parachuted into my constituency, at the very tender age of 32, by that nice Mr. Cameron, remember him, I bet you couldn’t believe it either. You were dropped in on us from afar, after the previous Tory had soiled his nest by accepting bribes for lobbying, being an anti Semite and shagging someone else’s spad whilst he was married and then lying about it, in truth a wide and diverse range of malfeasance and crass stupidity, I almost applauded his versatility.

Since then I have not heard one single word from you in the House although you are now a junior Minister, the Minister for Silence I expect. You have voted, with your obsequious colleagues, exactly as you have been told to, by the operating hand that is up your back passage. You were a remainer but now you support leaving, yet it seems probable you would flip back to whatever position was required by whoever controls you, death of the first born? No problem squire, I’ve always been for that, in principle.

To be fair, you have made noises about our local hospital which has been decimated by previous administrations and which now struggles to cope with the massive PFI debt it is saddled with. Credit for noises duly made, however it still remains down graded to a sprained wrist and broken fingernail centre so that locals have to survive a 45 minute ambulance journey to the nearest Gordon McDoom trophy hospital, in the event of some catastrophic injury, do we feel lucky, lets hope we get a good paramedic, alive on arrival, eh?

You have also organised trips to the House of Clowns for us yokels, this is quite exciting for us here in the sticks but probably within the remit of the local U3A to arrange equally effectively, oh and I forgot, you also send me a card every Christmas which I suspect I probably pay for.

To get to the point, I received a compact pamphlet from one of your familiars this morning, it contains all the usual hyperbole so I was not disappointed in that respect.

You state you will get Brexit done, you omit which Brexit it will be, the hard one, the soft one, the one with an extra sausage, the May one, the Boris one, a Brexit we’ve not yet seen, you won’t believe it’s not Brexit, is it that one?

I would have been mildly reassured if you had mentioned our coastal waters and our fishing rights, our farmers, our new technologies, our judicial rights, being freed from the yoke of EU federalists, our sovereignty, our culture, preserving some of those, that would have captured my imagination but I guess ‘get Brexit done’ will have to do, you would have needed a bigger pamphlet to get all that other stuff in.

Ensure our local economy continues to thrive, which economy is that? The town centre with the empty shops and the broken windows, the other boarded up shops, the scruffy unpoliced pot-holed streets, that economy? The industrial estates where thousands of East Europeans now fill our jobs, at minimum wage, the economy where I now have a good working grasp of at least seven Slavic languages just by walking around the market square, I learn the words through osmosis because I hear them so often, is it that economy?

Build the new bypass to stop town centre gridlock you say, that’s been promised for a long while, I’ve adapted an old blues tune to help me cope with the hours I’ve wasted sitting in traffic here, I’ll share it with you.
“I was born in a town with gridlock, it’s a town with gridlock they’ll bury me in”, needs more work I’ll grant you, I’ll add more lines the next time I’m stationary in traffic for a while.

You will back our NHS, I think I’ve covered that above but I forgot to tell you, it can take two weeks to get a phone call from my local surgery, not a visit obviously, let’s not get silly, just a phone call. I’m thinking of getting Skype so I can see what my doctor looks like, I find it’s so easy to forget their faces. It used to be the next day but somehow it has now become part of the grand NHS lottery, please put my name in the hat for a doctor’s appointment, fingers crossed, I feel lucky today.

Increase funding for every child in school, perhaps for English language lessons for the children of the new, cheap labour.
Put more police officers on the streets? Every day do you mean, or just the odd show copper? Our local police station was built at massive cost around 10 years ago and was almost closed last year, this is crime reporting by appointment now, as they are open only for limited hours.

Been burgled or mugged, had your car stolen, your child is missing, you’ll have to wait till 10am tomorrow to report it, please do it before 6pm on Friday though as we are closed for the weekend. That’s right, you read that correctly, they close for the weekend. The busiest policing time of the week, when all the chaps are out having a couple of glasses of sherry and being slightly boisterous, the one time you absolutely need a police presence in the town yet the police station is closed, I could not make that up, even Monty Python would have rejected that scenario for being too surreal.

I saw a police officer once in the town centre, I genuinely asked him where the fancy dress party was, oh and there was another one once, outside Superdrug, the day after the Westminster attack, he was in full metal jacket with the entire Robocop armoury I had paid for and he was chatting to an elderly lady. I can promise you I’ve never felt safer buying my Corsodyl mouthwash than I did that day, not seen him since, hope all is well with him.

That appearance was one of Mrs. May’s illusions for the public, make them feel safe, Superdrug, especially the East Midlands branches are, as we all know, a major terrorist target. You do remember Mrs. May don’t you, you voted for her vassal WA agreement, that’s right, that Mrs. May.

The flip side of your bulletin is somewhat sketchy in comparison to its powerful leading face, there is a hint of vote for us or you will get the nasty people, I’m pleased we’re not the nasty people now that Mrs. May has shuffled off. We also have the underscore of promised extra hospital billions, have you ever wondered idly about those extra billions every year and our International Health Service, why we need to keep increasing this every year, I know I have.

We have tough on crime, is this the tough on crime you’ve had a chance to fix since 2010, now you’re going to do it? The soft prison sentences that let terrorists and killers out in a few years, people around the world are laughing at us, did you know that, I don’t especially relish living in an island of clowns yet people are laughing at us, even Americans are laughing at us and they’ve got Nancy Pelosi!

They are laughing at us because we allow a premier league terrorist to go to a liberal conference and kill the people who organised it, they are laughing at a convicted, throat slashing killer on parole attacking the terrorist whilst the Mayor of what is left of London tells us London is open for business, it’s all safe, all good, nothing to see here. They are laughing that we have thousands more of these lunatics wandering around keeping our security people tied up in knots whilst we welcome back even more convicted terrorists and unknown quantities of uninvited, unregistered dinghy people. Thank goodness for the Polish chef with a whale’s tusk otherwise it would again become far too surreal.

You now ask for my vote, I can now reveal that you have more chance of seeing Ronald McDonald, in a fur coat, carrying a copy of Vegan Life and going to a PETA conference. You see, I’m a small c conservative, look it up, it will surprise and delight you, I’ve been voting for people like you most of my adult life only to find a sense of disquiet on each occasion, what have I done, will it be different this time?

I have now realised, alongside millions of others, that this is a wasted vote, a hollow thing, it means less than the lowliest cactus flower or the humblest Yucca tree. It means we have had enough of the vacuous promises of your political class, your endless empty words are just that, we see it, you’ve been rumbled my son, now get your strides on, you’re nicked.

I’m only sorry that Lord Buckethead, or whoever it is, will not be available at my local hustings, I hope he is successful nationally though and I will be the first to welcome our new metallic overlords if they prevail, I have a feeling they may be an improvement on the existing incumbents.

* I have packed a small bag containing essential toiletries and am waiting by the front door, I’ve a feeling I will be seeing that Robocop officer again shortly, I may be gone some time.

© Viciousbutfair 2019

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