Pop star politicians

Politicians want your vote, and they will do anything to get it. So it has been, so it will always be. But the difference today, in this age of growing individualism, television and internet and is that to sell you whatever you want, whoever you may be, their face needs to be seen. And what does this mean? Utter despair on my part at the lengths political leaders will go to be seen as hip, serious, family orientated, funny, conscientious, laid–back – the list goes on.

Today, they are everymen, desperate to appeal to everyone, often at the cost of policy and promises. Now they’re probably best suited to be actors, and I’m not just talking charisma and public speaking like the days of old, I mean absolute character actors of the highest order, rather than overlooked thesps.

It wasn’t always this bad. All politicians had to do since the dawn of mass media was deliver uncomfortable radio interviews or doubly uncomfortable televisual ones and then get back to their job. Of course, the media has changed, alongside the growing prevalence of television and the internet. Reality TV has put the lives of the individual at the forefront. “These guys run our country,” the people shout, “why shouldn’t we know everything about them?”

Blair was probably the first Prime Minister able to deal with a more technological age; his charisma saw ministerial duties pass without great mishap. He was down with Jarvis Cocker! I saw through him, of course. Even in ’97 I could see through his smug grin, though I was probably biased, John Major had SWEET glasses.

But then it all went downhill. Gordon Brown enters office and crisis after crisis hits. MPs’ expenses, recession and the desire to follow both Blair and Cameron’s charm offensive. Suddenly, the Prime Minister wants to be bestie mates with you, yes you! I wish I’d been there when some genius suggested he appear on Youtube. We are today blessed with countless minutes of Brown’s determined grimace.

Then it was time to turn the computer off and put Britain’s Got Talent on. Yes that’s right, Brown, tell us what you like to watch with the kids. Ring up Susan Boyle and ask how she’s doing. It’s for the good of the country, yeah? I’m sure there’s nothing else more important. Literally nothing. At all.

Which leads us to the nexus of pain, the build up to the 2010 election. Everyone was at it, at the expense of any credibility or policy. Ostensibly motivated by American politics, but no doubt inspired by part time music mogul and full time cretin Simon Cowell and The X Factor, the three main leaders took part in perhaps the most ill advised and gut wrenchingly unconvincing ‘debates’ that I’ve ever had the displeasure to see. Cameron once met someone of a different race? Nice job, Dave!

And, oh God, the morning chat show publicity tour. A party leader on GMTV is as misplaced as Boris Johnson in a gaffe–free zone. Yes, please ask Mr Brown what he enjoys for breakfast. Oh I’d simply LOVE to know what box sets Mr Cameron is watching in his copious free time. The Wire? What a guy! At least now GMTV’s gone and nobody watches Daybreak.

Their wives join in too, with Sarah Brown being paraded around alongside Samantha Cameron; look at these high–powered businesswomen, with their nice shoes. That’s obviously what we want from a leader. Doesn’t it just warm the heart? No, it doesn’t. There’s your answer.

At least it’s all worn off a bit now in this inter-election political hinterland. Well mainly, though Clegg’s still there, now criticising Cambridge and Oxford’s decision to raise their fees. A right master of disguise, eh? He’d give Tom Cruise a run for his money, not least his situation being a real Mission: Impossible, zing!

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s great that you politicians want votes, but seriously, get behind your desks and back to sorting out important things – like policy. Get it into your heads that the leader of a political party can’t always relate to everyone, and if you try, with your forced smiles and your dire jokes, it’s really going to put me through severe mental trauma. And that’s basically akin to punching a basket of kittens, guys.

I won’t be too mean though, go ahead and sit down with your family in front of Saturday night TV, but if I ever want your opinion on why Lucy never gets picked on Take Me Out, I’ll bloody well ask for it.