Being told by the Tories not to put a local election poster in my window because it will only remind people why they don’t like them has reminded me why I don’t like them.
It also put my blood pressure up, according to my newly delivered blood pressure monitor. I strapped the thing to my arm while I was arguing with a Tory councillor about why they wouldn’t give me a Vote Conservative poster: 136/84. Nowhere near as high as it was in the doctor’s surgery, but still…
This happens every election. I always offer the local Conservatives the run of my front garden, which borders the village green, and they always politely decline my offer to display a banner or placard in a prime spot.
Sometimes I ask more forcefully for a poster regardless of what they want, because I really want one. They then try to claim they haven’t got any.
I complain and threaten to let the builder boyfriend make one out of a tarpaulin and black spray paint, like he did with Brexit. And they ignore my texts and emails.
Having thrown a hissy fit during Theresa May’s tenure, and written a rude letter to my local association telling them I was voting for Nigel Farage’s lot in the European Parliament elections to put pressure on the government to implement Brexit, and having had the desired effect, together with all the other voters who did that, I then voted for Boris at the general election. I suppose I should back the Tories at the May local elections.
I’m not as violently unhappy as some people are with Boris’s only moderately headless chicken-like handling of the worst crisis to do with a communicable disease since the Black Death, added to which my next door neighbour is one of those ‘independent’ candidates who claim not to have any motivation, politically, aside from caring for what local people really want.