Bristol_Election_2024. Jan 23rd 2024.

Someone once described me as being about as subtle as a chainsaw because I've always spoken my mind, regardless. Having spent many years living up in the Northwest where speaking one's mind is pretty much de rigueur, speaking openly may ruffle many a feather or two, however, there is also an amount of respect given for people being honest with one another, and someone would have to have exceptionally weak back vertebrae to be as ready to take offense as southerners would. I guess that's always been one of the main differences between what was very much the industrial north, and the white-collar south.

I'm one of those marmite people, so, you'll either take to me, or you won't. There's no in-between at all. Am I bothered either way? Absolutely not, because none of us can be all things to all people, and, quite frankly, you don't pay for the roof over my head, my bills, or the food on my table, so, why should I even care? I own myself 100%, and that's what matters to me more than anything else. Take it, or leave it. Like it, or lump it. Your choice entirely. I will still be my honest self, and speak my mind.

Therefore, when it comes to the bullshit I read and hear it will be unsurprising that I pass comments, as my social media and blog site respectively reflect. Take, for instance, the splash headlines regarding the Royal Highmesses William, and Kate. Actually no, I'll take that back. It's the two ex-pats that are Highmesses. Never mind, the point being a bloke of royal personage visits his wife in hospital and it's reported as being something groundbreaking for him to do. He'd better watch it or he'll be starting a whole new trend before we know it, and Okay magazine will be heralding the royal prince as the next best thing to the second coming. Utter bullshit! Ah, well, I suppose on the brighter side it makes a change from stories such as Wolverhampton's Sandra, who had her toenails clipped by a gorilla while on safari at Whipsnade.

Of course, if you really want the real deal where bullshit of the highest possible level is concerned, look no further than our politicians, the grandmasters of it. If there was ever a Nobel Prize for bullshit, Britain would probably win time, and time again. Did that seem at all biased, by the way? Okay, so maybe it'll be between us lot on this side of the pond, and Trump on t'other. You know what I mean. Anyway, sticking to this side of that great divide known as the Atlantic, right now we have a choice between Titchy Suitsize in number ten, and Schizoid Starmer in wait, and not in number ten. I won't even bother mentioning the Postmasters/Mistresses all-time favourite, Second class Davey who, despite recent revelations of him being perhaps, one of the all time great political bullshitters, isn't worth any further tapping of the keyboard. Oh yes, let's not forget the Greens, but there again.

So, moving quickly on, is there anyone actually out there with a beating heart who still, and wholeheartedly believes in our politicians, I wonder, or is that pig I see flying past my window as I type going to stop and ask how my day is going? Maybe Red Rum will resurface as the winner of this year's Grand National, who knows? For sure, I don't. That's why, for the most part, I let it all drift by as being potentially harmful to my chakras - wherever they are! You see, I did once, possibly twice, and potentially three times take an interest in politics and being elected on both a local and national basis, and, perhaps more surprisingly, without the intervention of a psychiatrist - despite my neurodivergency diagnosis.

Although, and it's a big ALTHOUGH, I have to declare my surge of interest towards standing again, and I'm almost convinced it has nothing whatsoever to do with the medication I'm on. In fact, I've taken great lengths in doing my research as to potential side effects, and so far, there are no contraindications that in any way suggest the manifestation of political hallucinations when digesting pills for a malfunctioning pancreas, arterial sclerosis, and emphysema. Although there's still time yet, and who knows, I may well be on morphine by the time the next election, and if I am, then this is likely to be an election no one in Bristol will forget! It'll either be the best or worst ever, so, if I were you I'd begin crossing my fingers, revert to your by now dusty rosary beads, start going to whatever place of worship takes your fancy, or, keep both legs crossed and hope you don't start a leakage pattern anytime soon.

I'll have you know I've spent a great many seconds giving thought to why I should stand again, sometimes even minutes - spaced out of course. No, I'm not saying I've been spaced out, fool. Just that the opportunity is being considered as to what I would have to offer as a potential candidate, other than a much-needed sense of humour to deal with all the crap that would come my way, given my well documented, and superbly, illustrious past. Perhaps I should ask myself again. So, please hold, and enjoy the ambient sounds of subliminal whales in mating season against crashing waves while I check. You'll feel so much better in yourself for doing so. I can almost, but not quite guarantee it as you begin to breathe and relax.

Have you breathed? Excellent, it does help. Especially as I may require you to still be around with functioning lungs whenever the election is in progress. Please remember, at all times that votes are counted as null and void when you're six feet under.

That said, I have now fully consulted with myself, and adjudication was deemed unnecessary on this occasion.

Of course, it goes without saying that I also have a very serious side, and this is where I segue into questioning where the real people are in politics. Now, when I say 'real' I'm referring to ordinary folks, like myself. Those who haven't benefitted from a university degree, or a cosseted upbringing. Not that I have anything against that, of course, as everyone has their part to play. Or do they? Where's the roadsweeper who made his way up the ladder to become a director of the company? Where's the care home worker who, after years of wiping backsides enters politics because their experience gives them something to offer that's based on hard work? Where's the bus driver who climbed that ladder over many years to reach a senior level within his company, or the postman who, just like former MP Alan Johnson, entered politics? Where are these ordinary, working-class people? More importantly, where in parliament is there a balance between those who have had the benefit of university degrees and those who have not?

To me, this present system feels somewhat elitist with, in general, people who have never had to live through the voracities of life, and who don't know what hardship really means because it's never been part of their journey, and, to Labour's credit, at least they have names such as Angela Rayner, who was brought up on a council estate and began her working life as a care worker. Using a well-known saying - she literally is "one of the few, not the many" in politics today. Again, Raynor is one of those typically down-to-earth northerners who speaks her mind and tells you what you need to know, rather than what you want to hear - in no uncertain terms. You get the cake with no icing, unlike just about everyone else within the higher echelons of frontline national politics.

There's a class war within politics I don't resonate with, perhaps even a certain snobbery regarding the selection process for those we elect, of which I go against the grain. I'm an outsider who has never toed the line of life, as most people would know it, they find it uncomfortable. There is little they can relate to about my life because few have done the things I have. Am I about to change in a way that would please others? Absolutely not, because I am not a people pleaser As I said before, I am my own person, and therefore presumed to be a danger to the status quo. Which, of course, is total bullshit. Besides, as I've also said before, we cannot please all of the people all of the time, and who would want to anyway?

So, I would stand for election as an independent, simply because, to my mind, it is fairer to the electorate by not being bound to a party whip, not playing the favourites game, and being freely able to decide in my own best opinion and based on the evidence presented, what provides the best possible and fairest outcome all around given the circumstances laid out before me at that time. I've seen how Bristol has declined faster than a Japanese kamikaze pilot over recent years under Labour's Mayoral leadership, and it concerns me that the council may be teetering on 'special measures' - even though it may well be regarded by some as a bit of a stretch. I don't know what it is, or where it comes from, I just have this acute gut feeling that all is not well concerning the city's finances, and whatever's there and amiss will become apparent following the departure of our current elected mayor.

In my honest opinion, the administration of Bristol will require exceptionally long bootstraps to pull itself up by, and I have some continued hard thinking to do.

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