and finally Stop the election, I want to get off


Chris Proctor hides from relentless punditry


O


m. Om. Om. Oh, excuse me. I’m lying behind the sofa practising transcendental meditation. I’ve been here since the general election was called.


I’m not generally of a pessimistic demeanour, but those two words – “general” and “election” – placed together, threw me into a bit of a state. I could stuff letterboxes with leaflets that no one


would read, knock on doors that no one would answer or hide in the front room until it was all over. So that’s where I am. Mind you, ignoring the news is no easy business these days. You have to be cunning to avoid Fox. I am avoiding all forms of public transport. It is a constant puzzle that using it is seen a solitary activity. People even complain how unfriendly London passengers can be – but I can’t stop them. The day after the announcement, some woman,


unasked and resented, plopped down next to me and began to tell me about her house in Jamaica. This is normal in the Belsize Park area. She was typical: half hippy, half debutante and half right. Did I know where she was going? I bit my tongue and feigned an interest. “I’m going to the bookies,” she told me. “I’ve just got a feeling. I’m putting £100 on Corbyn.” “Each way?” “On the nose!” I got off at the next stop, regretting that I’d not offered her odds on Fillon for the French presidency. The episode convinced me of the need for caution.


The election rears its head in forms you cannot anticipate if you’re not constantly on your guard. Or in hiding. Open your computer and sly messages about E-Day


leap out from every corner of the screen. My emails are, as a rule, predictable. They are divided into ones for my immediate attention and others advising me of Uzbekistan ladies who have taken a fancy to me. Even these well-wishers appear to have abandoned me as I am deluged with election messages. Would I care to fill in a survey, come to a rally or congregate at a neighbour’s house to share misery and hopeless activity? Would I like to subscribe to up-to-the-


minute reports of the nothing that’s happened in the past nanosecond? The “social” has abandoned social media as its


entire content now consists of unrestrained political outpourings. Most are two-word posts, with the name of a politician and a suggestion that they devote a great deal of time to self-abuse. The rest are massively long and hugely tedious tracts covering the course of British politics since the Norman invasion. They look like the university essays I plagiarised. Glance at Twitter and everyone you know has taken on the mantle of political pundit. Happily, they are as brief as they are ill informed, and mostly occupied with hobby horses like “No one has mentioned desalination” or fairy stories such as “We can win!” I have less trouble ignoring general election


slogans. How do you get more meaningless than “A future fair for all”? or “A brighter, more secure future”? The only one I thought was reasonable was Labour’s local election assertion that “The Tories are the real extremists”. No sooner had I approved of it than it was withdrawn, presumably on the grounds that it contained a message. I used to enjoy the radio in the mornings, but now I only listen to the Today programme from half past the hour until twenty to. This is an election-free zone, devoted to frightening the public with accounts of fresh diseases, viruses, contagions and plagues. This is the state to which I have descended. I’d sooner have boils and blisters than dodgers and twisters. The television I have moved to the shed with


the volume cranked up to annoy the neighbour who throws snails over the wall. I wouldn’t mind if he was French and provided the garlic butter. The postman, once greeted with joyous


anticipation, I now see as a pariah. Yards of printed material is stacked unexamined in the hall, full, I know of bogus claims and begging letters. So, here I am behind the sofa. Actually, I quite


like it here and I’m in no rush to emerge. It’s reasonably warm, quite comfy and surprisingly profitable. I’ve found 60p in small change and a small cache of foreign coins. Mostly they are European. They’re getting more foreign by the day.


26 | theJournalist


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