Election Special (or, The Enemy is Still Everywhere)

So the third and final Glastonbury headliner has been revealed, and it's...*yawn*...The Who. At least the brie-eating dinosaurs who whinged about Kanye West getting his black all over the line-up might stop complaining now; I bet those guys can imagine no better weekend than one that culminates in hearing the two members of The Who who haven't died yet play an extended version of Won't Get Fooled Again.

That was *going* to be the first paragraph of today's blog post. I was *going* to write a slightly angry but ultimately inconsequential little rant about Glastonbury, and then maybe list some bands who I personally think would make good headliners for next time.

Sadly, though, there's another - much bigger - bit of news that I'd like to address today. You see, The Who's Pyramid Stage headline slot isn't the only reason why this has been a good week for old, conservative white men.

That, friends, is what a Conservative majority looks like. In case you've been living under a rock (or, y'know, in a different country), the United Kingdom had a general election yesterday, and it's now been confirmed that David Cameron will be our Prime Minister for another five years.

A lot of people aren't happy about this.

Now, I'm no political expert, and if you're unaware of why a Conservative re-election is such bad news for so many people, you'd be better off visiting the fantastic - though ultimately futile - dontbeafuckingidiot.uk ("A sweary, angry, yet accurate report on the coalition's time in office"). I actually live in a safe Labour seat, but even though Stephen Doughty held on to Cardiff South and Penarth yesterday, there's still cause for concern even on the local front:

12,513 votes for the compassionless, cold-hearted Conservative Party. 6,423 votes for the far-right, foreigner-hating UK Independence Party. 18,936 neighbours and nearbies who want these people to represent them - us - in Parliament. People are entitled to their own beliefs, obviously, but I didn't quite realise that Cardiff and Penarth were home to such a large number of people with those beliefs.

I apologise, readers - I realise that I've already done one blog about Titus Andronicus this week, but the lyrics of this song have never felt realer to me.