Brenda’s wondering if she might need to take a break for awhile, sat here wracking the brain, trying to come up with unfortunateness. What with everything going on in our big wide world you wouldn’t think she’d be at a lack, but …
It hasn’t rained like this in ages, has it? Chucking it down all day Wednesday, with a bit of respite this morning and now we’re back at it again. Relentless. The feet are soggy and the studio’s in a tip. Bumbling about on public transport earlier on way a proper chore. Traffic backed up, grumpy fellow passengers, grumpy drivers not breaking at the stops cause there are a few too many school children. Pfff even had the cheek to drive through the puddle splashing myself and mum with baby in pram. Charming. This weather sure brings out the best in us.
In search of some escapism I trawl through Instagram. I see some pals have been silk-screening. I salute their Jeremy Corbyn tees but it’s the Mhairi Black ones that really catch my eye. What a gal! Like yes, a true inspiration. My heart warms at the sight of her name and I am reminded how actually, there’s still a bit of hope left in this hardened ticker of mine. Or maybe hope is too strong a word - I can’t see the Mhairi Blacks of this world winning anytime soon - but at least she’s there, in real life. I want to buy one of the shirts. I might not be able to vote SNP, but I know I’ll wear it a lot.
It’s one of the things which really pisses me off about the Labour Party. Like how come we hadn’t all heard about Jo Cox til she was murdered? I know she was a Blairite but from all the post-humous stuff we learned, I think that can be forgiven. She sounded like a good politician. Couldn’t they sort themselves out and give us some strong ladies (at the fucking forefront!) to rally behind. Look at our neighbours to the North. And then the bloody Tories doing us shame. It winds me up.
Cause I really can’t be arsed with boy’s clubs anymore (no offence, men). Not just to do with the fact I’m a newly inaugurated singleton and have been enjoying proof of female super-powers
:: last weekend, post-pal birthday, six of us girls upstairs on the bed, all stroking sick cat in some sort of healing coven, which totally seems to be working ::
but back in March even Mhairi said she hated parliament. Said it was a depressing place where you had to work with people you find quite troubling, and that she might step down at the next election as ‘too often politics is just a waste of time’. No big surprise there. I’m assuming she’s had a change of heart as she seems to be out canvasing, but it just reinforces my feelings about testosterone-driven environments. They pollute even the most promising oestrogen-fuelled minds. Out to fucking get us, I tell you. Hold us back. If you just let us women get on with it….
Lol, look at me all ‘bang on trend’ … shocker! And even that’s the inner voice of the evil male, trying to talk me down. Let’s just shout some obscenities !!!!
Fuck you Westminster. Fuck you Theresa May for playing along. Politically I might still be holding on by a thread, but I think we need to call halftime and re-evaluate the game-plan. Either that or move up to Scotland. Enough of the same old, baggy bollocks. Please.
If any of you would like to sport your very own Jez or Mhairi tee, pop along to MOTH on Sunday, show your polling card to get in free and scoop one up.