It is a pleasant spring evening. I am sitting in the garden. It’s quite a nice garden. I’m grateful to the building society for allowing me to live here. And for a very reasonable rate of extortion too. I am contemplating an election leaflet that had been posted earlier. The leaflet appears to be canvassing support on the issue of local crime. Bring back George Dixon, it implies, and all will be well. So bland is the leaflet that the word “Labour” could have been replaced with that of any mainstream party. Do they end Labour conferences now with a rendering of “the slightly pink flag”, I wonder idly?
My musings are interrupted by a man at the door. The smile on his face is a fraction of a second late. He’s come to sell me double glazing, I think. "Good evening, Mr Voter, I’m your Labour candidate in the local election. May I count on your support?” We engage in conversation. The word ‘socialism’ is one that he uses liberally. (What would Walworth Road have to say about that?) However, he may just as well be talking of double glazing because he obviously has no clear idea of what socialism is.
During the course of the exchange the Labourite sees red. “Examine the record of both the Wilson and Callaghan governments,” I say, “and you will see that both failed to do anything for the working class.” But, he is now clearly impatient to know exactly who will be getting my vote. “I shan’t be supporting any of the candidates,” I say, “but I shall certainly be voting. I am a member of the Socialist Party.” Recognition dawns. "You’re the SPGBer,” he says accusingly. “You’re the one who always writes ‘World Socialism’ across the ballot paper.”
Whilst regretting that I appeared to have failed to convince him of my argument, I am not wholly despondent. After all I have still to be canvassed by the Conservative, the Liberal, the Independent, the Green.
Dave Coggan
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