Grow a Pair. Vote, Damnit.

Ok, here it comes; a super-quick post about voting.
Do it.
Yes, 99% of the time, it’s a waste of a perfectly good holiday. There is always a gigantic list of things we’d rather be up to, often beginning and ending with ‘be hung-over’. It’s a veritable all-star list of the least pleasant things to be doing and/or suffering simultaneously: headaches, queuing, people, standing, early mornings and, inevitably, children. Why people bring their kids along to vote will always be a mystery to me. It benefits no one. The kid cares a little bit less than fuck-all and, as the screaming of a spoilt toddler that can’t understand why its mother isn’t currently shoveling sugar-coated cereal into its face is in the top five list of ‘worst-things-to-endure-with-a-hangover’, the experience is ironically detrimental to its future. The responsible parents are, in a very real way, endangering the life of their child, a deed of such colossal irresponsibility that the only just punishment should be for said folks to be held upon the ground and Five-Knuckle Shuffled by each and every voter under the age of thirty.

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