In It To Win It With John

So, it's been just over 6 months since David Cameron romped, or rather stumbled past the post to become our PM. Finally, dissatisfaction with the Labour Party boiled over, leaving the country in what many considered to be a state of deplorable disarray and political confusion. But this analysis is surely false.
For instance, I think Labour supporters do themselves few favours by shouting aggressively about the new ruling powers. Why? Because the result was perhaps the best Labour could have hoped for! Too many terms on the trot led to them being villainized in the papers, shunned by bored voters and perhaps worst of all, regular attendees of the Andrew Marr Show. What Labour needed most was a bit of respite and some time to regroup (and also chuck Gordon out the back door).

It's funny; it's a lot harder to support the Tories than it is to support Labour. All you have to do is say that you went Blue and people accuse you of "shitting on the little guy" (to quote a militant anti-Cameronite), ruining Britain, destroying education and bankrupting the working class. Say you voted Labour and the worst you can expect is to be labelled as boring or a bandwagoner.

 Woo! New Labour, guyz!

Yet I am not here to talk about whether or not "the cuts" are a good thing (and as a student, I have to be very careful with this issue); I am in fact here to discuss perhaps the finest addition to the Scottish Conservatives. Sarcasm? Actually, no.

Anyone who lives in my constituency (not my Aberdonian one) will have had the same experience as myself; taking industrial pliers to the bulging letterbox to extract yet more correspondence from one John Lamont. Hardly a week went by without half of Scotland's paper forests arriving through the letterboxes of the residents of my lovely little constituency, all emblazoned with the smiling, approachable, trustworthy and legendary John Lamont.

The Man, The Legend, The Promotional Material

And of course, with such a positive and full-on campaign, John Lamont (whose name MUST be written in bold, as you can see) won lost the election.

Well how p**sed do you think I was? I sat up to about 4:30 am to watch the results roll in, only for Michael Moore (whose name, in contrast to John's, must be written in a very understated, disdained manner) to hold the seat, with only a modest swing in John's favour. Nevertheless, this is not the end for myself and John. John pledges to:

• Reopen railways
• Save Post Offices
• Improve mobile phone signal (thank God)
• Promote wind-farms (probably)
• Save the whale (maybe?)
• Rid Cockburnspath of famine and drought (seriously?)
• And ban Fiat Multiplas from scenic roads (definitely)

(Please note: The above electoral promises may not correspond exactly with John's.)

So, in short, John is not alone. He never will be, as I am amongst the 16,555 people in my constituency who would never see him stuck. But this image is burned in my miserable mind forever:

I look forward to drowning in flyers next election.