For The Fallen

Political patronage is alive and kicking, as Nicky Morgan stays in the new government as culture secretary, despite standing down as an MP. She is taking a peerage and will sit as a cabinet minister in the Lords. Yes, one more in that place!

From Austin Mitchell

“For the Fallen, my sympathy. That’s about all you’ll get as the arc lights are switched off, your supporters drift away, the IPSA money tap dries and the staff who’ve served your every whim depart clutching their P45s.The constituents you’ve served so faithfully, worked so hard for, listened to their witterings moans and problems, show no gratitude, have already forgotten you. They won’t even recognise you if you’re daft enough ever to come back and at the going down of the sun and in the morning they won’t remember you. What-ever you’ve said about partnership, uniting for change and standing together, there’s no sentimentality in politics. It’s over. You’re just another person reduced from press releases to tweets.

“Couldn’t have happened to a more promising contender and certainly shouldn’t have happened to you. It wouldn’t if you’d had better support, if your leader had recognised your ability, had time to listen to your ideas, strategies and warnings, and not gone whoring after other constituencies, other issues and more favoured creeps. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened if that canvas on the council estate had been properly done, if there hadn’t been that incident with that drunken shit.

“If the paper had printed your brilliant speech to the party meeting that could have turned the tide. But they’ve never been helpful despite all the drinks you’ve bought for their sodding reporters. The editor’s been prejudiced against you from the start. Now they don’t even want your views on the by-pass you didn’t get. Or on anything for that matter.

“There’s no justice. You’ve always told people that politics is a rough old trade but you’d never thought that it would be that rough on one of its best people. Why should it when you’d been nominated for backbencher of the year, when Mathew Parris once said you showed promise, and you whip had said your prospects were good.

“All that’s gone but at least you can “fear no more the heat of the Sun nor the furious twitter rages” which are the lot of attention seekers. You were, so you secretly didn’t mind them but now you’re not and they won’t worry you any more. Unless you’re found drunk over the wheel of your crashed car or your kids take to robbing banks.

“Now? After all that strain, all that abuse on twitter, all those hours driving up and down, and all that loss of family time and neglect of your kids, (what were their names?) your fed up partner and your garden and you’re out . There’s another job to look for, a huge mortgage you’d never normally have taken on to support and the party you’ve supported so loyally through the occasional thick and lots of thin treats you like yesterday’s leper.

“The bastards. You’ve worked so hard for the party, sacrificed your career for it now it not only doesn’t help but doesn’t even seem to want to know you any more. Criminals get safe houses and witness protection programs. The party just discards you like a used Kleenex. Didn’t even send a letter thanking you, though there was one asking you to make another contribution to help clear the debt.

“This is it. But you’re not even sure what or why. Was it all in vain, a futile exercise done for nothing? The show rolls on, Parliament chunters on, a new generation of politicians who’ve never heard of you fratches on while the town and its people get on with business and lives you’re no longer part of. You’ve been used and for what purpose? Perhaps there’s one consolation, small as it is. It’s not your fault. There are so many other buggers to blame”.

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