10 May 2010
For the first time since before I started voting, I couldn’t stay up and watch the election. I almost ran out of time to vote. I suppose that watching sixty million people assemble a dog’s breakfast isn’t really worth a sleepless night.
Belgium has been muddling along without a government for most of the year. They’re several months up on us, and things are still intact. Or perhaps that’s why, as soon as you enter from the Dutch side of the border, every twentieth building seems not to have a window or a roof.
A hard-working local MP near my parents didn’t get in because the local council, controlled by the same party, upset every nature-lover in a ten-mile radius with its decisions about some council parkland. The nature-lovers’ protest votes for the spoiled ballot paper party and new-age healing and rights for the undead have elected an inexperienced, overprivileged yah who might as well have inherited the constituency with an earldom. We’d save on printing ballot papers there and he might invite some of us peasants to a tournament. Somebody might even knock off his hat with a bow and arrow.
This can’t really be how first past the post voting was meant to legitimise a parliament.