Justin here. Soon, all our futures will be decided, for good or ill, by the results of the imminent General Election. My position dictates that I must remain neutral in terms of political fealty – something I try very hard to do – seeking instead to care for the spiritual well-being of our great country. But, you know, the spiritual and secular are so often inextricably bound in our complicated lives, it is hard to see boundaries. When I discussed this theme with the young man with the wire in his ear, I was heartened by his response. “Go for it Archie!” he said, adding, “Remember Wonga!”
Now, I must admit that the name still makes my pulse race. You may remember, dear reader, that some time ago I condemned that company’s disgraceful moneylending activities (shortly before I discovered that my own Church of England paid some of its employees below the living wage – but that’s another story).
Significantly, new moneylending regulations are now in place and Wonga is presently facing deep financial trouble They are even thinking of changing their name, so anxious are they to rid themselves of any association with the idea of extortion. So yes, I think that I may count that as a spiritual victory.
But presently I am being asked my opinion about the various political parties contesting the upcoming election; something I find very difficult to do. I have in fact met them all. Mr Cameron needs no introduction of course. He is very pleasant, affable, articulate and remarkably shiny. His Deputy, Mr Clegg, is more puzzling. He appears young and slightly tousled. I am no political guru, but during our short meeting I got the distinct impression that he hadn’t got a clue what he was talking about. But at the same time I felt that he wanted me to like him.
I don’t think Mr Miliband cared about my personal preferences. He, poor man, has been mocked unmercifully in the media, from his facial similarity to a cartoon character to his difficulties with a rogue bacon sandwich. Our Lord Jesus Christ suffered mockery from all quarters, but eventually triumphed most gloriously. Consequently I must admit that my heart went out to Ed.
Most curious were my few minutes with Mr Nigel Farage. The young man with the wire in his ear had suggested that I “watch this one, Archie, he’s slippery”. Truth to tell, we had hardly shaken hands when my lady wife appeared. Her greeting was fulsome – she’s very keen on UKIP – and she ushered a smiling Mr Farage away to our private apartment. Loud laughter and the clinking of bottles were reported for hours afterwards.
But now I must deal with a barrage of letters and emails I have received from the UK Bridge Union who seek my support in their attempts to have bridge recognised as a sport. As I often do with things vexatious, I asked the young man with the wire in his ear for his opinion. His reply was brief and to the point. “What a load of cock,"he said.