May 30, 2017
Finsbury Park: So far 2017 has been a rather trying year for me. The Islington People’s-Socialist-Fair-Trade-Third-World-Food Co-Op has been quite simply in an uproar since last month’s “Venezuelan Quinoa Incident“. The Food Co-Op’s whatsapp group has become veritable torture for me. To be honest, I am quite the Luddite, so I only took an iPhone under duress because Party Leadership said I needed to be “more accessible” when I go on my morning walkabouts in the Heath. And it is not only the Quinoa Incident that they debate endlessly in the chat group. Of course there is the NGO “Palestinian Lesbian Anarchists against the Wall” that wants to sell their wares in our shop. So far so good, but what is their position on Climate Change? And the NHS? And manspreading?
Then there is my bicycle, which continues to break at the most inopportune moments, like when I was on my way to the Marwan Barghouti Benefit Concert in Tower Hamlets last week. Of course, one would be remiss without mentioning my garden allotment. Ms. Bannister insists that it was my kale crop that introduced the weevils that seem poised to make quite a snack of her corn crop. Incidentally, a certain Mr. Goldstein continues to illegally occupy encroach upon my radishes with his rather arcane crop of chick peas and red peppers. So you can see, Mr. Corbyn’s (very vegan) plate is rather full. I am burning the (vegetable oil) candle at both ends. Jezz needs a break.
With all of my responsibilities, I simply do not have time for all of the nonsense in Parliament. “Votes“. “NATO”. “Protecting the citizens of the United Kingdom“. Therefore, for the past several months I have done everything in my power to get myself removed from office so that I may return to focusing on the important things, like the problematic gear shift on my Schwinn. And the sorry state of my lettuce crop. And improving my attendance for the Yoga Classes at the Leisure Centre. But it appears to be all for naught. I have tried everything.
So visiting Syria as the guest of Bashar Assad was not enough? How about if my travel-mate was Jenny Tonge? How about that I attended a wreath laying ceremony for the lead architect of the 1972 Munich Olympics….misunderstanding? Then I refused to apologize for inviting the Irish Republican Army for tea at the height of their 1980’s bombing campaign. For goodness sake, I blamed the Manchester attack on British Foreign Policy
Now it appears that even if Labour loses next month’s election, I still won’t be allowed to step down. I am simply at my wit’s end. Once again…. Just what must I do to get kicked out of Labour?
One thought on “No, I’m serious. Just what must I do to get kicked out of Labour?”