I am unutterably depressed by the state of this world, from which I may shortly depart, so I have, of late, tried not to engage with it. At 91, I want to hand over saving the world to my daughters and grandchildren, but guilt about letting down the women who got me my precious vote has forced me to put my mind to the coming election.
Conscious of the importance of the next government for the future of our broken country, and the fact that this may well be my last vote, I do not just want to put my cross where I always have. I know I want to get rid of the Conservatives who have made lying and dog-whistling against vulnerable minorities the norm, but I want to think carefully about what comes next.
I have scoured all the newspapers for enlightenment. I am disturbed by the bias and misinformation I find. Bearing in mind that Brexit and Boris Johnson’s majority were greatly influenced by inaccurate, unchallenged reporting, I worry that voters are being misled.
An example of this distortion was how the media reported on last week’s BBC election debate, showing seven candidates being quizzed by members of the audience. I forced myself to watch and was actually pleasantly surprised by the debate. I felt sorry I have not the right to vote for Plaid Cymru or the SNP as their candidates were intelligent and compassionate. I understood why many young people are voting Green when Carla Denyer got the first round of applause by suggesting that income tax should be increased for those who can afford it, in order to fund the NHS, which the main parties are making solemn promises to support, despite their unrealistic protests that they will not increase any taxes. I was impressed when the SNP’s Stephen Flynn spoke up for the positive values of migration, again supported by applause from the audience, in contrast with the evasiveness of some of the other candidates, who had obviously been told to avoid the subject.
The reaction of the audience, approving this more considered and compassionate approach, visibly withered Nigel Farage, who was reduced to meaningless “overpopulation is the root of all our problems” babble. He was then further reduced to grim silence by the audience’s loud agreement on the failure of Brexit.
Reading the press reports the next morning was depressing. I looked at a roundup of all the papers, and found they were completely slanted to the political colour of the paper. None of the most interesting discussions were mentioned; the angry exchange between Penny Mordaunt and Angela Rayner was more fun to report. Sadly, few people read newspapers nowadays, but it is the soundbites that will be selected and go on to be read on the web that matter.
In fact, most did not feature the debate prominently at all, preferring to take an indignant stance against Rishi Sunak’s absence from the final commemoration ceremony of the D-day landings. As a relic of that wartime generation, I really can’t get het up about him coming home before the end. His insensitivity made me sad, but he was there earlier. Of course it was stupid of him not to stay, if only to take part in the final ceremony with the world leaders in attendance. But that is all we can expect of him. This mistake did not seem as heinous to me as the Eat Out to Help Out scheme, which seemed idiotic in the middle of the pandemic. His absence was sentimentally deemed an unpatriotic, devastating sin that should end both his career and the Tory party. I doubt the dignified veterans cared whether he was there or not, but the media pounced on it with glee – it was a great story. I am not interested in protocol. The reason I want Sunak out is to prevent him and his incompetent ragbag of a cabinet doing further damage to the country those men and women fought for.
Presentation is all important these days. Obedient MPs seem to be acting as mouthpieces for out-of-touch party advisers when they trot out rehearsed lines in parrot-like fashion, usually involving the phrases “my constituents tell me”, or “on the doorstep people are saying”. I long for them all to get off the script and say what they really think. Every party underestimates the intelligence of the voters and our ability to face facts. I don’t want my potential government to regurgitate set pieces, I want spontaneous passion.
This fierce political animal of the past is weary. When I was young, I went with my father to all the public hustings, and we confronted our politicians face-to-face – my dad quite vociferously. Now I rely, to a large degree, on my television screen to inform me. I thank God for the challenge of the rottweiler interviewers on the Today programme, Channel 4 News, Newsnight, Laura Kuenssberg, James O’Brien, and all of the honourable seekers after truth who I will be glued to between now and the big day. Who survives their scrutiny? Who means what they say and tells it as it is?
I actually found myself warming to Frightening Farage, when at the end of the TV debate, all the candidates in turn made a statement of their beliefs. They stood rigidly, with that shifty-eyed, glazed look that we often see. When it came to my Bogey Man he said: “Unlike the other six, I don’t need an Autocue. I’m here because I believe in what I believe in.”
If what he believes in did not terrify me, he would have my vote.
Sheila Hancock is an actor and a writer
