Big news! Ex-pats living abroad will no longer be able to vote in Canadian elections. I thought I heard the scream from across the pond when it finally filtered through to Gill’s news sources (the pigeons that hang outside her balcony, discussing politics and also who’s currently sleeping with whom…people, not birds). Not that their gossip isn’t often every bit as accurate as certain accredited news bureaus in these days of the waning days of REAL news but chicken scratchings galore from Twitter feed.
I believe Gill’s precise and indignant words were: “WTF do you mean I can’t vote? I’m as Canadian as they come!” As if to prove her point, she held aloft her red and white Olympic mittens, suitably wrapped around each shivering little paw, protecting it from frostbite and chapping. She just happened to be wearing them since it IS summer in Britain, you know.
In true motherly form, full of concern, I commiserated. “Well, it’s all in your perspective. You’re one of the lucky ones. You aren’t being forced to vote for one of these clowns: Tweedle Dum, Tweedle Dee, and Good Ol’ What’s His Name? I have always made it at a point to vote but this is the sorriest lot I’ve ever to choose.One seems to have a tiny bit of a dictator complex going for himself, one has really cute hair, and the other, well, to steal a famous American line from campaigns past, ‘I knew Jack Kennedy and Mr. X, you’re NO Jack Kennedy. ‘Nuff said.”
“But I WANT to vote, Ma!”
“Well, take mine. I’m not using it!…Actually, that’s not technically correct. I am USING it just not the way the politicians want me to. I’m going to spoil the ballot by scrawling on ‘NONE OF THE ABOVE’ on it. I will have made my comment. A pox on all their duplicitous answers, evasions, lies and most of all, for wasting our time and money trying to convince us they will actually govern if given the chance to hold office.”
I think the decision to prevent ex-pats from voting is a harsh one but if you’re going to have the pleasure of living in a tropical paradise (I was thinking more of her friends in The Caymans, not Gill…nobody could ever mistake the U.K. for tropical or a paradise), not have to eat poutine on at least a weekly basis, have other nationalities laugh as soon as you open your mouth to scream about the ‘moose loose in the hoose’, pretend to love Timmy’s coffee and the Maple Leafs, and endure seemingness endless months of wearing metal cleats on your feet just so so you can remain upright (although all bets are off even with cleats if you’re been drinking)… we must exact some punishment from you for your sins. So not voting it is!
Now, about that tropical paradise…any tickets left? Which leads me to a brilliant scheme: with all the candidates so willing to hand their largesse every which way to ‘persuade’ voters, I’m thinking something in the way of a ‘jobs initiative’ to create much-needed employment might be just the nudge necessary to land some more votes.
I’ll approach my local would-be representatives immediately! If the plan works, Crazy D could drive me to the airport for my tropical paradise getaway, Gill could plan my itinerary, L’il Sis could fashion my wardrobe. Presto, chango! Before the lucky candidate can even fork over the money, three new employment opportunities created. And I promise I’d be back before the election to cast my vote!