None Of The Above

It couldn't be.

Surely a box on a polling card saying 'None Of The Above' was too easy an option, too starightforward an action, too transparent for politics, but that's what Chris' friend had said down the pub last night.

I've been reading 'The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists' by Robert Tressell for a week now and it's blowing me away, so when I passed it to Chris to take a butcher's at, his friend recognised it.

'Good book, that,' he said. 'Same as it is now, almost.'

'You're not wrong,' I replied. 'Thing is, even Socialism's up the spout now. They're just Tories in disguise, so who the hell is there to vote for? Clegg's about as worldly as a frisbee.'

'You never voted?' asked Chris' friend.

'No, never. They're all the same so what's the point?'

'You've never seen the last box at the bottom of the voting card, then, have you?'

'Hardly likely seeing's I've never voted.'

'Well, there's this box says none of the above,' said the bearded man. My ears pricked. 'All you have to do is vote for none of the above and if enough people do it, Parliament has to listen.'

I couldn't believe it! The heavens opened. I left to get back into Tressell and imagined myself hanging out at the polling station telling undecided voters about the box at the bottom.

In the morning, I walked to where I had a bit of piecemeal painting work and treated myself to a coffee en route.
I started writing a poem called 'No, ta!' (a cunning abbreviation of None Of The Above) and was doing OK when I realised the time.
I gathered my things together and when I got to the gentleman's house, I couldn't resist asking him if he knew about the box. He's a worldly man who has lived and worked in London and TV for as long as he can remember. He had to know about it.

'Unfortunately, there's no such thing. It's an urban myth,' he told me, looking over his spectacles at me.
He could see my disappointment.

'The bastard,' I said, referring to the git at the pub.

'If you vote for all the parties, it doesn't count as a vote, just as if you deface it.'
My anger lifted, but I still felt dejected. 'I just started writing a poem about it and now what?'

'You can still write it,' he said.

'But if there's no box at the bottom, what's the point?'

He could see my point and asked if I'd like tea before getting started on the varnishing of the doors.

'Who are you going to vote for, then?' I asked, steering the topic back onto the straight and narrow.

'Buggered if I know,' he replied. 'Always voted Labour but they're not Labour now. Can't stand the Tories. I met one of Clegg's posse the other day outside Sainsbury's and he seems to be a complete baffoon. Just kept on saying the same thing over and over. Maybe I won't bother this year.'

'So you're going to vote for None Of The Above, then? Good call!' I said, and we had a nice little chuckle.