Politics: just for geeks?

The sad truth: we aren't cool.

Picture the scene, a group of people, lit only by the glow of the TV screen, sit around watching the stats come in. A flurry of excitement is caused by some numbers going up and down on a flashy graphic. This is politics in Britain today, people, and it's not cool.

Tiny turnouts and general apathy point to a society that doesn't care about politics. Those who do have an increasingly niche interest, concerned with the strange behaviour of a select group of middle class white people. In fact, at times British politics bears a striking similarity to Dungeons and Dragons; arcane traditions played out according to strict rules, many involving silly outfits. This isn't how it works in France, or Greece, where politics means the left converging on Bastille, or anti-austerity riots in the streets. The French left had a massive party on a Sunday (a school night!) when Hollande got into power last week. In Europe, politics is (or can be) cool. Why isn't it here?

I realised this in 2010. It had taken so long for anyone to make up their mind that year that even the ultimate geeks had torn themselves away from the TV/computer screen and into the real world. When action finally happened, and Cameron went to the Queen, I was in a pub. We actually asked for them to turn the TV over from football to endless shots from the BBC helicopter hovering over the Mall of cars going to and from Buckingham Palace. It took hours, and there was, obviously, nothing to see. By the time we left everyone else in the pub was fuming, and incredulous. Over the next few months, my friends' eyes started glazing over as I fumed over the latest scandal, or made witty comments about Nick Clegg's falling poll ratings.

Then last week I worked as a poll clerk at the local elections. It became clear, as I added up ballot papers and worked out turnouts in my break, that I was a committed election geek, but worse, no-one else cared, and worse still, no-one actually in politics gets that no-one cares. The 301 people who turned up to vote that day wouldn't have been able to pick the members of the shadow cabinet out of a line up. Things happen that politicians think will be the end of them (Jeremy Hunt, are you listening?) and nothing happens, because most people haven't even noticed. Let's face it, they are all (both sides) a bunch of middle aged, white be-suited men who can't get a stir of excitement out of their wives, let alone the public. Ed Miliband, bless him, doesn't look like he ever went out dancing in his entire life.

In the X-Factor of the London mayoral election, the public chose Boris because they liked the way he looked, the way he swore, the way he occasionally resembles Stephen Fry. Make no mistake, Boris, incredible as it might seem, is cool. In a misogynistic, posh sort of way. And worryingly in an uncool government, that's all he needs.

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An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.