Dispensing with the usual weekly trawl through the promo inbox, this week R$N gets all pseudo-political and barks out insults at three of the prospective
clowns candidates battling it out in today’s London Mayoral election.
Each candidate has also been given their own designated theme tune, naturally.
‘Red’ Ken Livingstone, Labour.
Old swivel eyed newt fondler Ken is back on the map, looking increasingly like a cross between the amphibian he’s synonymous with and a sleazy, tipsy geography teacher. You meet a lot of people that don’t like the man, and even his most fervent supporters can understand it: He comes across like an egomaniacal, smug, oily old pain in the arse. I’m sure he’s probably a massive dickhead as a person. The thing is, though, that Ken Livingstone is one of the only high profile, recognisably left wing politicians remaining in the country. He’s also been there, done it, got the t-shirt when it comes to running London – having written the bloody manual when originally ensconced in the days of the Thatcher baiting GLC. Yes, he’s an annoying old git, but no, there isn’t a better alternative– he’s the best of a bad bunch. It’s definitely cutting up rough out there at the moment: We’re having a massive wobble on the back end of thirty years of Thatchernomics, we need an old hand and a bit of an idealist, a lefty, to push against the tide of economic insanity and steady the ship a bit.
He’s definitely not the Messiah but, for now, he’ll do.
Theme tune: Ken by Kate Bush
Boris ‘Bozza’ Johnson, Tory.
Boris Johnson is not a politician; he’s a slapstick comedian. All televised footage of him should be accompanied by comedy sound effects: a squeaky bike wheel or a duck’s quack. The theory goes that the tories have him in place as a court jester, paid specifically to keep the nation entertained with his comic repertoire of falling into rivers, playing wiff-waff, getting his head stuck in railings etc, and so acting as a perfect decoy while Cameron and his goons maraud the country cutting the poor people’s faces off.
This is all very well and good, but what with all this gurning and rumpus, Bozza hasn’t even had the time to pretend to do the other stuff: the bothersome chores such as governing a fucking major city in a time of unravelling political and economic chaos. It’s not all poor BJ’s fault, he’s just in the wrong job; he should be out on tour, bringing down the house at the Cricklewood Coliseum with his groundbreaking Impersonations Of A Blithering Idiot.
So let’s give him a shot at his true comedic calling in life by voting him out.
Once his diary is freed up, you can book him at your local jongleurs.
Theme tune: Dance of the Cuckoos
‘Cosmopolitan’ Carlos Cortiglia, BNP.
Carlos is Italian/Uruguayan, having been born and brought up in Uruguay to Italian and Spanish parentage, before arriving on the fair shores of the UK in 1989. Like all Italian/Uruguayans, he joined the British National Party almost immediately, sighting for his decision his disgust at witnessing the behaviour of other ‘immigrants’ in this Great Country who refused to ‘respect’ the history and culture of their adopted nation and, basically, do as he did and join the BNP.
The BNP love Carlos (or ‘Colin’, as they affectionately call him), he’s their latest ‘surprise campaigner’ in a list that has already included a deluded sikh man, and, once in a bi election in Wolverhampton South, a Gloucester old spot pig.
They’re good at confounding expectations, the BNP.
‘So much for xenophobia!’ they fart out wetly through their website,
‘The most cosmopolitan candidate!’ they wheedle, proudly pointing at pictures of Mussolini on their bedroom walls.
The best thing about Carlos is that his whole moral argument is based entirely around the chorus of Joe Dolce’s 1980 smash hit pop ditty, ‘Shaddap you Face’. In fact, during the run up to the election he’s been going around London, singing it through a megaphone attached to the roof of his red, white and blue campaign bus:
‘Whatsa matter you? Gotta no respect.
Whadda you tink you do? Why you looka so sad?
Itsa not so bad, itsa nice a place.
ahh, shaddappa ya face.’
Before, screeching to a halt, disembarking from his vehicle, and cheerfully kicking all the ‘disrespectful’ ‘immigrant’ people of London to death in his handmade Italian leather bovver boots. OI! Ugly.
Theme tune: Shaddap you face
By Joe Evans