The British people have spoken! Well they’ve not spoken, they’ve muttered incoherently and two political parties who hate each other have had to cobble together a deal or else lose out on power. This is a fascinating time politically but the confusing nature of coalition government is going to make satire even more complicated. I used to slightly love the Lib Dems like you love a dog. They were upfront, inoffensive and unthreatening because you knew they’d never get near power. Now they’ve got themselves involved in government, they’re going to have to actually be responsible for stuff. Can’t imagine hating Nick Clegg or Vince Cable but, if I really work at it, I think it can be done. Not too happy about Cameron as PM and Osborne as Chancellor – it’s government by posh boy! People like me are going to have to keep a low profile. At least Blair reminded people that posh boys can be left wing (well at least start left wing and then move rightwards in an attempt not to upset friends of the family who are lovely but read the Daily Mail).
I’ve been back from Cyprus for a couple of weeks now and am delighted that I don’t have to leave the family for the foreseeable future. I really need to spend more time with the kids and even my wife! There’s a certain lack of respect in our house at the moment. I’m sure dads aren’t meant to become a joke until you’re in your late teens but I sat lecturing my 8 and 9 year olds about bad behaviour at the dinner table and they sat there giggling saying that they couldn’t take me seriously. I think I’ve overdone my comedy mock-tough dad act so that now they expect a punchline at the end of every telling off. I say, ‘Grace, I’m really ging to lose my cool in a second’. She’s saying, ‘I love it when you get angry and your face wobbles!’ Thank god I never went into politics. I can just imagine bidding a poignant farewell to the nation outside Number 10 while my kids roll around on the pavement pissing themselves behind me. My wife would also be there, probably yawning and rolling her eyes.
I’ve just discovered an important method of judging how middle class you are. If you call your grandparents something really silly like Gagi, Babbaaa or Leaf (honestly this is real), then you are outrageously middle class. My grandmother is called ‘Grandy’ and my kids call my mum ‘Moo’. If I have grandchildren I’ll probably be ‘Wobblyface.’
