It’s early, so very early.
Tomorrow – or when the sun comes up anyway, as it is technically today – I will walk down to the polling station and deface my ballot paper.
I live in Buckingham, the constituency currently defended by The Rt. Hon. John Bercow, the former Conservative turned Speaker, and though I am certain that in his former years he was a wonderful constituency MP, I will not be voting for him.
There have, recently, been several moments where I have felt the need to contact my local MP, to try and get someone to stand up for what I believe in in the Palace of Westminster. Although it is often that Mr. Bercow has agreed in some respects with me, he is powerless do to anything. He cannot vote. The most he can do is forward my letter to ambivalent ministers on my behalf with a special header. The Speaker must remain impartial.
I see this as losing my vote. I will not have a say in the next Prime Minister, in the result of the election at all. Bercow will be, almost certainly, re-elected, and nothing will have changed. In my previous post I mentioned one of his competitors Nigel Farage, who clearly, in my opinion, is standing in the wrong area. There are a total of eleven candidates watering down the opposition vote, and none of them will retain their £500 deposit.
And thus, when I awake from this ever-nearing slumber, I will grab my phone to tweet about my entirely pointless journey to protest against First Past The Post by simultaneously voting and refusing to do so.
