On optimism and reality
Calling an election doesn't undo 14 years of vandalism to public services...
This is a subscriber-only newsletter from The Flock by Jennifer Crichton. Apologies that it’s a day later than usual - as you’ll read in a moment, it’s been a week! If you’re reading this newsletter in full, thank you for being here. I appreciate you. If you’re not, and you’d like to access the whole thing, and the back catalogue please consider hitting the button below…
Under normal circumstances, I’d have been salivating about writing this newsletter.
I’ve barely enjoyed a TV moment more than I did this week’s drowned Rishi missive. I mean, accepting the caveat that you have to be able to detach from reality somewhat to enjoy it, my god, it was good tele, wasn’t it? The rain, the rambling incoherence, the soundtrack of D:Ream’s Things Can Only Get Better - pulling a double shift as both a statement of fact and a dogwhistle for change - eventually drowned out by even more rain. It was a moment of pure televisual perfection, and one which must have had the writers of The Thick of It hanging up their pens, quietly resigned to the fact that satire can no longer compete with reality.
You could easily have looked at it and thought the only way was up for Rishi’s campaign. But then he started actually campaigning and it turns out, there is something he’s worse at than election announcements. From asking the Welsh if they were looking forward to a summer of football - Wales having not qualified for the Euros - to giving a speech from Belfast’s Titanic quarter where every inch of the optics screams sinking ship, the vibes of hopelessness have been so strong, it’s little wonder the PM had to immediately take a day off to recuperate.
So yes, it’s a rich comedy seam to mine, and one I’d have relished diving into - had this week not thrown me a little reminder of why Rishi’s election gamble is actually not very funny at all.
Because a little over a week ago, I found a lump in my breast. And while I must say, quickly and without any suspense building whatsoever, that I’m absolutely fine, A-ok, thank goodness, there’s nothing quite like a health scare to hammer home the privilege of quick access to good healthcare.