Take it outside, please

... tribal politics can bite me

In 2003 when I was working at my first job in journalism, I encountered for the first time what we call now “tribal politics”.

It was a sunny early summer’s day, I remember it well, and there had been some sort of local election (London mayor?) and a colleague on my desk asked me how I had voted that morning, which I had done - at a local polling station before coming to work.

I don’t know why, but I said, coyly, “That’s a secret.” I was just being silly. But his response shocked me so much it really did - I mean this - change my life forever.

“You voted Tory didn’t you?” he crowed. “You’re a Tory, that’s why you won’t say! It’s because you’re a Tory, you voted TORY!” He was sort of shouting, now, and the whole office could hear and I was only 23 and I didn’t know what the fuck this was all about.

I did not grow up in a tribally political household. There was no “I’ve voted XXX all my life,” nonsense. My father is a former academic and my mother is barking mad and my dad’s political attitude was very much “well-these-are-the-facts” while my mother randomly shouted “Kill everyone!” in the background.

So I didn’t know what this was. And I looked at my colleague in bafflement and then slowly turned to stone and said, “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” And from that day on I have never told anyone how I voted and I never will, so long as I live. And that DOESN’T mean I’m a Tory! (Or maybe it does?) Though people are always desperate to tell me that I am a Tory, or desperate to tell each other that I am. And the more people who are desperate to know how I vote and therefore who I am, the tighter I clam up. I have never even told my husband how I have voted.

I was so disgusted and appalled that someone would speak to me like that on the basis of how I might have voted. Voting is a sacred act! I don’t know if other women feel like this but I do, genuinely, feel every time that I vote that this is not a thing to be taken lightly. It is my vote, women died to get me this thing, and I must be allowed to put my mark wherever I like without fear. And this person, older than me by some years, had humiliated me in my place of work and I just really couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What made it all the more strange was that, otherwise, I got on with this guy really well, he was my friend.

The micro was reflected in the macro and this conversation I had in my office was writ large across the country in the years that followed. Divisions deepened and people squirted hard both left and right. The left became even more fashionable and right cemented even harder in power.

Now, I hear, on dating websites people put “No Tories” on their romantic wish lists. I would respect that if I thought for a second any of these people knew what the fuck they were talking about, or if I thought for a second that they didn’t secretly vote Tory (because who are the millions of people who consistently vote Conservative if not them?) It’s a silly posture, a stupid tribal signalling thing for thickoes who couldn’t tell you who Mo Mowlam was and think “Division Bell” is an Eighties pop group.

And so I never talk about politics. I just don’t like how divisive it is. I once bought a dress off Samantha Cameron and this completely deranged woman on Instagram messaged me to tell me that she used to like me but that she was unfollowing me because of this act. It was a dress. And to dislike Samantha Cameron because of what her husband did strikes me as the least feminist attitude I can really think of.

Most of all, I can’t stand how politics makes people who you thought were completely normal suddenly lose their sense of humour and contort their faces into weird, nightmarish shapes. This person you once knew and liked was now Other and spooky. It’s the German work, unheimlich. Thatcher fumers are the worst - both for and against. They have been saying the exact same things about her since 1979 and it’s been as boring the entire time and they either haven’t noticed or don’t care. I bought that Kate Clanchy some-kids book years ago, before all the scandal, and tossed it over my shoulder after twenty minutes because she launches into the most arse-clenchingly boring anti-Thatcher rant. It’s the same with “Tony B. Liar” - move on!

“The trouble with all politicians,” says my dad, “is that they’re politicians.” And I find it hard to disagree with that. They’re all mad, vain, posturing and flexible with the truth (although don’t think they are, so add “delusional” to the list). Many people trace the beginning of a slow country-wide decline to the reform of the civil service circa 2000, meaning less Sir Humphrey and more politicians who know nothing, accompanied by random 24-year-old SPADS trailing suitcases full of wine and constantly teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Having said all this, I must admit I did quite fancy Kemi Badenoch for PM. I said this on Instagram the other day and quite a few people told me that she was very “right wing”. To which I laughed. Yeah, everyone’s got a plan, I said, until they get punched in the mouth.

I fancied Kemi because I literally just like the way she talks: unpanicked, not a lisping creep like Rishi, the nasal supply-teacher Truss or however Penny Mordant talks (don’t care!) I like how Kemi is certain on certain issues. I don’t mind what people think about anything as long as they are certain about it and don't fanny about or try to be everything to everyone.

Anyway, whatever.

It’s going to be Rishi, isn’t it.