I hate AGM season.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve had to move house to change my party membership. Sure I’m making loads subletting my flat on Air BnB — but I miss my own bed.
I’m also running out of disguises. Never mind the fact that I’m a big name in the Labour Movement which really doesn’t make me the best person for this, as I tried to explain to Shadow Chancellor John Palpatine. And besides, the more time I spend at Constituency Labour Party Annual General Meetings, the less time I have for crucial strategy and twitter polling.
I wish we ran CLP elections online, it would save me a lot of grief. I made the mistake of suggesting this on our team building day to Hayes where we bashed out our Autumn Statement response. Luckily everyone was on their phones, so no-one heard me.
So, armed with a satchel of fresh copies of Paramilitancy Today, I had to move quick to make my train to tonight’s meeting in Bognor. Well I say that, it was on Southern Trains, so suffice to say I probably had about half a day to play around with. I’m all for the right to strike but it does make building for the revolution rather difficult when everybody hates you. Sometimes I wish we had just been bombed in the war; not only would the Corbyn revolution have come more quickly but —and more importantly — we could have had non-Victorian rail tracks and competition, driving prices down.
Sure, I’m an anti-capitalist but don’t you think that it would be a far better use of my time to get to Bognor sooner, on high-speed privatised rail, rather than sit here in this half empty vestibule, wasting time, wondering at the mispelling of the local MP’s name on the Bognor Momentum leaflet.
Turns out they got the spellings of some of the candidates wrong too, they forgot the hyphen in my second name.
Their MP sounds awful, apparently she supports the privatisation of the Royal Family.
It’s difficult to write a speech for a part of the world you’ve never been to. Annoyingly it was dark when I eventually disembarked from the train, and my eyes wouldn’t squint enough to see if Bognor beach was sand or pebble. What I do know about the area is that it is currently a hotbed of radicalism thanks to the Local Mayor, who’s a Green, who has been hosting fundraisers for us. What a guy.
I arrived into the meeting venue as early as possible to work the room. I had forgotten my party membership card but I didn’t have the right one anyway as I’m not a member here, so it was fine. Or at least it was until they asked me to produce a proof of address. Glowing as red as the communist manifesto, I had no choice but to make up a name and hence withdraw from the election.
Which was annoying as I now had to sit through a six hour meeting with nothing to show for it. The chair stood up to start the meeting.
“We begin with a report from the treasurer on misappropriated funds this year.”
Tonight was going to be more fun than I thought.
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