The Voting Flump

Yesterday, this is being started on Friday the 9th, it may not be finished then, was the General Election 2017. A year after the utter catastrophe of the European Referendum (essentially a vote foisted on an entire nation to solve an internal conservative argument that was lasting 25 years; which caused the country to split right down the middle) we have another national poll, Joy!

Hold your excitement, people. Much like the Referendum, this election has only compounded the division and made us an even bigger laughing stock in the world. Best joke of the day;

'After the General Election result, the pound fell and the English channel rose. Filled by the tears of laughter of the Europeans'.

So, after cubs we head via the polling station to cast my vote in the most recent of General Elections. As we approach the Flump mentions her preferred vote,

'I'd vote for the one with the pretty red flower. I like flowers'

'Umm...Okay. I guess people have voted for less logical reasons', says I.

'Can I vote for you, Daddy?'

'No, Flump. No, sadly not. However, shall I vote for the red flower?'

'Yes, Please.'

'Okay', says I, 'I shall then...'

Inside the Polling station, the Flump continues as the clerks hand me the voting paper. Grace leans forward and points her finger at the Red rose.

'I'd vote for those Daddy!'

'As discussed, you can't vote.' Thinking at what point the smiling clerk, will remove my vote from me for breaching electoral law.

I vote.

We leaving the Polling station.

'When can I vote, Daddy.'

'Well, remember that once only men could vote, then Women were allowed and then the ages went from 21 to 18 and some people, your daddy included think the voting age should be lowered to 16'

Flump went quiet as she pondered this.

'Well, Daddy, I think it should be 12. Then I can vote in the next one!'

Ah...an activist already.

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