Please make my book irrelevant on Thursday.
It’s taken me nearly two years to produce, it was published only last week, and on Thursday you have your chance to render my effort all for nothing.
And I hope you do.
In fact please, please, please, pretty please condemn this new book, this offspring of the sweat of my brow, to become a silly relic, a cowflop of futility just a week after it came off the press.
The book is called Sanctioned — hey, I have to plug the thing so you know which book to cast into the darkness of literary irrelevance.
Those of you in Britain might already have guessed something of the book’s themes from the title. Sanctioned — yes, that kind of sanction.
You see, for decades, British governments, following their masters, their baiters, their master baiters in the boardrooms of big companies with vomit-inducing brands have been waging a war on the unemployed, the vulnerable, the sick, the poor, those people in precarious circumstances, inculcating a belief that they are lazy, scrounging, work-shy, feckless, malingering, skiving leaches.
At the same time, the same governments have waged a war of attrition on any area of public life that can be considered useful or communal or not strictly for profit. They have demonised doctors, nurses, teachers, and even the police as a drain on public resources. In short they have blamed all society’s ills on the unlucky, those trying to help them, and those who are trying to help society as a whole.
So, these knobs in suits in London have eviscerated communal Britain, implementing the most callous campaign against ordinary people we have seen since Thatcher, and carrying on the sociopathy of Blair and Cameron.
Meanwhile, these grey non-entities have been funnelling money out of your pockets into the pockets of the faceless, unaccountable corporations that pull their strings. They do that through bailouts and privatisation and tax deals for megacorps and tax avoidance for the super rich.
And they call it responsibility. They call it austerity. They call it good housekeeping.
We call it bollocks. This corporate welfare is the real sponging.
Now, against expectations, we have a chance to get rid of the fuckers and change the conversation.
That chance is Thursday, the general election.
Sanctioned exists to take the piss out of these knobs in suits so if the Tories lose, then my book is likely to become pointless overnight.
Please make it so.
I’d swap the two years and all the hours and the frustration and the brain-ache, to have that conversation changed.
Let’s be clear, I’m not just talking of a change in government, swapping one bunch of bloodsuckers for another, I’m talking about the beginning of a whole other way of doing things, a different vision. Yes, I know, change doesn’t come overnight and disappointment is the normal outcome of hope, but we have to get rid of the corporate parasites, clear the air and talk about possibilities not fatalism.
Perhaps my book and what it rails against can be consigned to the dust of some time-forgotten cave to be wondered over by future generations, an artefact of a barbaric past, like something dug up by Charlton Heston and his furry friends at the end of the Planet of the Apes.
So go on, make my day, trash my book, vote those grasping motherfuckers out.