25 January 2010
A lesson in British politics today
Some details in this tale have been changed to protect the guilty. . .
It came to pass during the last general election that one of the three main parties chose as its candidate a decent soul who was married with children. In the fullness of time an election address was produced, which showed the candidate with his lovely wife, standing statesmanlike with his party leader, meeting members of the public with a look of earnest concern on his face. Trust your friendly old Exile when he says that you would have been impressed with the production, certainly the party members were when the glossy pages arrived from the printer's shop. Then one of the sharper knives in the party's drawer uttered the immortal line:
"Hang on, there's no fucking niggers in this thing!"
The members frantically leafed through the epistle and realised that the speaker had told the simple truth: not a single face had been touched with the tar brush. In vain did one woman point out that the constituency didn't actually have all that many ethnic types. It didn't matter, because nobody wanted their party to be accused of the dread crime of racism.
So the whole thing had to be pulped and the revised edition showed the candidate with his wife, his party leader and sundry members of the public, several of whom were of a dusky hue. The fact that none of them actually lived in the constituency and had been recruited through a modelling agency was quietly overlooked. The terrible charge of racism had been averted.
You friendly old Exile does not know whether to laugh or cry at this point.