In Australia tomorrow we have a national election. Apart from the fact this election has been a long time in the making (both parties have been in serious electioneering mode for the better part of 18 months… well it feels like that long at least) and if the polls are to be believed we’re about to get ourselves a Prime Minister called Kevin.
I’m excited and skittish like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. But with it comes a level of anxiety and apprehension. I am a Labor girl. Have been for a very long time. I remember discovering with some horror at a relatively young age (as in I was in primary school) that both my parents are dyed-in-the-wool blue ribbon Liberal voters and some of my teenage angst was how on earth I would survive being surrounded by such capitalistic snobbery. Ahhh, the teenage years. So delightful in their intensity.
Anyway… I may be a Labor supporter but that doesn’t necessarily mean I believe they make good government. Does that make sense. And before all your bloody Libs start carrying on about interest rates under Keating just sit back down and shut your collective trap. The NSW Labor Government is truly appalling. APPALLING. Inept, bureaucratic, bumbling and with no vision of just how to manage the day to day machinations of government let alone a vision. They simply don’t get ‘it’ on any level. I think Beattie’s team got it in Queensland and it will be interesting to see if that remains now he has gone. I’m not sure how people in the other States and Territories feel about their governing parties but I’m far from impressed by the Premier of Tasmania who seems to simply be channelling Bargearse (see below).
So you see, I am desperate to see sneaky John Howard gone and smarmy Peter Costello well and truly out of the picture to ever EVER be Prime Minister of this country (I would begin serious investigations to emigrate anywhere than live under his leadership) but I am so very very nervous that if IF Kev and the crew somehow manage to win the 16 (SIXTEEN) seats they’d need to take office they’ll fuck it up.
So Kevin, if you are one of my three male readers, please Please PLEASE don’t fuck it up.
OH the anticipation is making my neck itch.
It’s also compulsory to vote in this country and Hallelujah I say to that. Sure, there are some conscientious objectors who write things like “Bronwyn is a dragon” on the ballot paper instead of neatly numbering each of the boxes to render their vote null and void, but all in all, most Australians take their voting pretty seriously and pay it the respect it deserves. I know this because I’ve worked at a couple of election booths in my time, and certainly not as a party hack but as one of those marking your name off and counting the eleventy gagillion pieces of paper at the end of the day (it truly appeals to the obsessive compulsive lover or getting things in order in me) and for every donkey vote there are a hundred proper ones, if not more. It actually makes me a little bit proud.
Anyways, the best bit about an election is heading to your local school not only to cast your ballot, but to get a burnt sausage on a piece of white bread with some tomato sauce and something very home made from the cake stall. Talk about a sense of accomplishment on all levels.
For the first time ever, I am on high baker alert and several of my creations will be on sale at Oscar’s school tomorrow. I do hope someone takes them home and enjoys them with a restorative cup of strong tea. Recipes will be appearing over here in due course.
Behold, great Australian television, Bargearse: