Another week has passed without me being invited to stand for Mayor of Yorkshire. I am devastated. Only last night the other half expressed reservations about even the possibility of my candidacy: “only a moron would vote for you,” she said, “and hurry up and go to the shop; you’ve drunk all the wine again.”
“That could even be an advantage,” I replied upon my return from the local Nisa, having had time to compose a pithy political statement while selecting the vintage. “I could be the moron of the people.”
“You got the first bit right,” she said, “and I see you cheaped out on the wine again. A couple of glasses of this and you’ll feel like you’re having a near death experience.”
“I am basing my discretionary spending on the budget available and on a responsible forecast of next week’s likely income…some might call that fiscal prudence,” I asserted. “Some might even be thankful I went to the shop when it wasn’t even my turn. Which again indicates the extent of my public spiritedness.”
This is about the level of sophistication and insight Yorkshire’s Big Conversation reaches in my household.
“You’ll certainly make an effort when you want a glass of wine, Philip. That hardly constitutes a track record of commitment to public service though, does it? When did you last show any interest in politics? Apart from tweeting the Today program, that is – and then it’s only to make some completely irrelevant smart-arsed comment or correct someone’s grammar.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve been active in local politics since the ‘80s. I single-handedly swung my school council vote around to twin Parkside with Tipitapa High School, Nicaragua. I wore a Sandinista t-shirt all through my A levels.”
“As far as I recall the story, you dozed off halfway through the debate and put your hand up to go to the loo. And your grandma bought you that t-shirt from HMV – she got you got the Clash album for your birthday.”
“And I’d be wearing the t-shirt today if only I hadn’t donated it to a well-deserving cause.”
“Yes Philip, and I’m sure your heart is in the right place and you mean well, but to be fair you have never been much of what they call a dominant force have you? You’ve been no towering presence in local campaigns. Be honest. You can’t point to a single thing anyone remembers you ever doing. You’ve just not done anything… anything at all, really.”
“Well, as I’ve always said, memory is selective and unreliable. I like to think my influence on events was more subtle. Intellectual. Establishing a climate of opinion, that kind of thing.”
“Yes, I’ve often heard you referred to as about as popular as global warming if that’s what you mean.”
“The position of mayor is not a popularity competition. There are tough decisions to take and hard choices. Serious stuff.”
“Philip, your voting record in regular elections is, some would say, Unusual.”
“Independent, I’d say.”
“You said you didn’t vote for one guy because he had “unfair hair”… that’s a little arbitrary.”
“I have not hesitated to take a stands on public issues. I’m well known for my forthright views.”
“Yes, everyone knows your views on public seating and the state of benches in some of Leeds’ parks, but that may strike some people as rather narrow for a mayoral candidate, don’t you think?”
“I’m not afraid to stand up for issues that need speaking out about, and I have often spoken out about my outspoken approach to standing up and speaking out about issues that ought to be more spoken out about. I couldn’t be clearer.”
“It’s your motivation I’m questioning.”
“I possess the gem-like passion and nail-gun drive and determination to fight on the issues that matter to local people a modern campaign for mayor demands.”
“Some might point out the position comes with an unlimited tab at the Town Hall bar.”
“Even I am not that egregious… fancy another glass dear?”