This Side of the Pond

Politics across the pond has never had the glitz and glamor of America’s election season. The differences between our political systems have created a situation in which you guys have rallies, ticker tape and superstars and Britain has…well, not much reason for a party.

Unfortunately, it’s seemed in recent years as though our politicians have been wondering how to capture the magic for themselves. If nothing else, this has answered the question of what happens when you take a bunch of fusty old men in well-tailored suits and ask them to pretend that they, too, have that indefinable “American cool.”

And the answer is: nothing good.

When it comes to elections, I’d say there are three major points on which we’ve taken alternative paths. The first is that the UK is not voting for a prime minister in the same way you vote for a president.

We re-elect our entire House of Commons at the same time, and a person’s individual vote is cast for a party, rather than for its leader. If I were to, for example, vote for the Labour Party candidate within my constituency, it would be a vote for the Labour Party in general.

This is because the party that manages to shoehorn the most candidates into the House of Commons is declared the winner and its leader becomes prime minister – there is no separate vote for that person.

The second difference is the amount of cash our candidates are allowed to spend. Compared to the zillions that pour through the fingers of presidential candidates, it’s practically nothing at all.

It is, in fact, a maximum of $39,000 per seat. See? You could barely refuel Air Force One for that kind of pocket change.

Fortunately, our election seasons are a lot shorter, so you don’t have to make those pennies stretch far. The prime minister dissolves Parliament, an election date is set and it’s all done and dusted within the next couple of months.

That’s just enough time to read the party manifestoes and maybe learn the name of your local candidate, if you’re feeling froggy. But if I’m going to be honest, I couldn’t tell you who won my part of London the last time I voted, or even if it was the candidate I chose.

The only reason I know the name of Tobias Ellwood, who represents my hometown, is that he went on to become a hero. In 2017, when a terrorist drove a car into pedestrians outside the Houses of Parliament, he ran towards the scene in an attempt to save the life of a police officer who had been stabbed. No idea what his policies are, though.

The third difference is that we don’t allow political advertising on commercial television and radio. This ties in nicely with the second difference, because none of them can afford to hire a director anyway.

As you can see, what we have here is a lightning-speed election season without much in the way of star candidates and barely enough money to cover a rally stage in balloons. It’s a much more sober affair.

However, I did notice that candidates were trying to inject some pizzazz into proceedings during last year’s elections – and I also noticed it wasn’t working. British politicians have always done the kissing-babies-and-chatting-with-the-elderly part of the campaign trail, but this was a much wilder ride.

And by wild, I of course mean “still very boring with a faint whiff of humiliation.” Take the time Prime Minister Boris Johnson visited the city of Salisbury, for example.

Johnson thought he’d help out on one of the stalls at a Christmas market by serving candy to customers, which didn’t go as badly as you might expect. The cringeworthy moment came afterwards, when he had to borrow money for a chocolate brownie because he didn’t have any left, apparently because he’d “lashed out on some sausages earlier and it cleaned me out.”

He didn’t look any more impressive when he turned up at a random voter’s house wearing a party-branded apron and carrying a party-branded milk crate and, for some reason, a pie. I have not been able to find an explanation for this combination of props.

Or when he proved that the average British voter doesn’t treat the powerful with reverence during a televised debate. When asked whether he thinks telling the truth is important, Johnson answered “yes” and the entire audience laughed at him.

Then there was Jeremy Corbyn, leader of the opposition, who piously proclaimed on morning television that he carries a red notebook with him wherever he goes so that he can collect the knowledge and wisdom of British people all over the country because it “absolutely inspires” him.

When asked what wisdom he was going to collect from his television appearance, he came up with the following: “What a charming morning I am having, what wonderful Christmas decorations you’ve got.”

One candidate forgot he was wearing a microphone while being filmed knocking on doors and could clearly be heard telling a “voter” to pretend he wasn’t his friend. Another ruined her own chances when she inexplicably described people of color as being “Black or a funny tinge.”

We return to Johnson for my favorite moment of the campaign, in which a reporter ambushed him to ask him to appear on Good Morning Britain. Johnson said he’d be with the reporter in just a moment, then hid in a fridge until he went away.

Yes, I do mean literally. No, I don’t think we’ll be matching America’s political glamor any time soon.

In fact, I think my country’s reaction to the very idea of elections can be summed up by an interview that aired on the news just after Theresa May called an early general election in 2017. A reporter took to the streets to record how people felt about this. Unfortunately, he asked “Brenda from Bristol,” who was not only unaware of the announcement, but also suffering from election fatigue.

“You’re joking. Not another one?” she said, summing up the feelings of her nation. “For God’s sake. Honestly, I can’t stand this.”