Cue hollow laughter.
How will I vote in the coming election? I don't know. Will I even vote at all? I suppose I will, out of habit and a mid-20th century respect (which I can't entirely shake) for the electoral process. I'm not going to agonize over it. We're now living in a constituency where the Tory will win no matter what.
Our politics is broken. I think it always was. And by always I do mean always. The Devils Whore- which I have been watching with pleasure and instruction over this past couple of days- deals with the galant futility of trying to build a heaven on earth. You depose a bloody tyrant called King Charles and- after God only knows how much bloodshed and destruction- you find yourself annointing a bloody tyrant called King Oliver.
Only you don't call him King, you call him Lord Protector- because you don't want to acknowledge to yourself or to the world quite what it is you've done. Just as Ed Miliband doesn't want to acknowledge just how splendid his kitchen is.