On the Campaign Trail


Not the inconsequential, small-time, amateur thing that’s going on in America right now.  Noooo . . . this is the real deal.  The proper, vital, earth-changing stuff. 

Yes, folks, it’s that time of year again when the school councillors are up for re-election and my little boy has decided that he wants to have a go. 

He wrote an impressive manifesto at the start of his campaign and here are some of the inspiring pledges he made . . . 

  • He will to try his best to make things better and more fun for the school (the head teacher, acting on past experience, ruled out ‘no more homework’ pledges and promises of in-built theme parks.  Tut!). 
  • He promises that he will listen to everybody (I warned him about bully-boy lobbyists which brings me on to his next pledge).
  • He will try to get rid of bullying by setting up support groups from each year (shades of his big sister’s manifesto of last year.  Methinks she’s been helping him.  She feels that her own personal experience as school councillor qualifies her to be his campaign manager and it’s absolutely non-negotiable.  Not even the candidate himself has a say).
  • He promises a place for everybody who wants to join the after-school circuit training club (I think a recent huge personal disappointment influenced this pledge). 
  • If they vote for him, he will do his best not to let them down (ah bless).

And he had his campaign team working hard through the night . . . making flags, rosettes, banners, placards.  I suggested a green colour theme (for quite unpartisan reasons I’ll have you know!) but he wanted to go multi-coloured and who am I to argue?  We made everything from scratch using stuff such as gift wrap from last years birthdays, tissue paper that I always save for a rainy day, drinking straws from the cutlery drawer that no-one ever uses but everybody cries for when they see them in the supermarket . . . and left-over ribbon that I found in my sewing basket.  Hoarding sometimes pays off.  And we rummaged through every drawer to find as many safety pins as possible to use for the rosettes.  Why are there always safety pins floating at the bottom of every drawer?  And curtain hooks.  And batteries.  And old mobile phones.  And two-pence pieces . . . .

Anyway, no time for a clear-out right now.  Voting takes place this Wednesday.  I have been gently preparing my charismatic young hopeful for the prospect of an election defeat and although he is outwardly philosophical and casually shrugs off any concerns of not winning by telling me that it doesn’t matter, I have a mother-intuitive suspicion that a loss will be taken rather personally.  Actually, in all likelihood, it will be taken directly-to-heart, ie Nobody likes me. I’m rubbish.  Yes, I am expecting tears at bedtime.  So if you could all kindly pretend to be eight years old and enrol at his school (it would only be for the day – politician’s promise) and give him your vote . . . I’m sure I can arrange for some bills to be put through Council that will . . . ahem . . . benefit your agenda (big fat secretive, under-the-table donations will also be gratefully grabbed too). 

Gordon Brown, be afraid.  Be very afraid.

All hand-made with love by the Gardener campaign

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5 responses to this post.

  1. Brilliant! 😆

    ~Yeah, what’s the deal with straws? My kids are the same, always asking for them when we go shopping. But they just end up spitting their drinks at each other through the straw, so I just don’t buy them!

    Reply

  2. Lol. My kids do that too! Wonder who they learnt it from. 😉

    Reply

  3. Gordon Brown? Not at all, would he were a witness how children learn fair play with the help of their mums!

    Reply

  4. Yes Jose, our leaders could certainly learn a valuable thing or two from our children.

    Reply

  5. […] nominated to be a school councilor.  Thank goodness we saved all the rosettes and banners from last year’s campaign.  Saved me a lot of hard work.  We tweaked them up a bit though because one thing we learned from […]

    Reply

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