Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Ramblings From The Night Shift; A Poem

It is truly amazing what the human mind can produce when under the effects of sleep deprivation! Hope y'all appreciate it!

The sky is full of darkness
Waiting for the dawn,
With everything she brokers
The sunrise and the yawn,
The driver he is staring
Into another place,
Praying for the clock to spin
But ‘steady’ wins the race,

On board there is a peaceful air
The calm before the storm,
When chaos rules as on they step
From life of every form,
Their faces pressed against the glass
And shoulder bags so chic,
They scan and curse, they strive to win
The race to grab that seat,

The brakes they squeal and motors whine
The driver takes the power,
St Pancras, on to Blackfriars
Within the golden hour,
The rustling of the morning read
The metro on the chair,
The office girl has had her fill
Of news of that affair

The sunlight spreads across the Thames
They squintingly admire,
The silhouettes and office blocks
St Paul’s resplendent spire,
Off the train they briskly step
In kitten heels and brogues,
Ready to run the gauntlet of
The beggars and the rogues,

The business folk have been and gone
Replaced with prams and buggies,
The shirts and ties and pencil skirts
With sandals shorts and trackies,
From Luton on to distant lands
From Gatwick others fly,
To Brighton some will take their day
A beach on which to lie

The driver breathes a weary sigh
Then pours himself a brew,
It may well be his break time
But there’s so much more to do,
Brighton to St Albans
Then Blackfriars once again,
To Wimbledon, the Sutton loop
And Luton town for ten,

The final trip is Bedford bound
The last one of the day,
He’s climbs on board with time to spare
And smoothly pulls away,
Leagrave, Harlington, Flitwick too
Right to time he’ll keep,
Then Bedford where the day is done
He’s off to get some sleep!

Friday, 13 May 2011

David Cameron, Phillip Hammond & The Truth Behind The War On The Unions

David ‘The Condom’ Cameron sat in his princely leather backed chair, the gentle hum of upper class snorts and sexist jokes pierced the layers of cigar smoke that painted the air. Various service staff fussed about him, adjusting his napkin, re-filling his wine glass, and attending to his every wish. Under the table, one guy was on his hands and knees licking Cameron’s boots.

Moving on from Nick Clegg for a moment, Cameron munched enthusiastically on prime fillet steak, and took a healthy mouthful of rich, deep red wine. Relaxing back into the chair he glanced down at Nick Clegg as he continued to tongue bath Cameron’s already shiny brogues.
“You missed a spot!” He snarled and kicked out, causing the almost hysterical Clegg to scramble for the relative safety of the opposite chair leg. Instead he ended up grasping the calf of Phillip ‘Cancer Man’ Hammond. Looking down at his shoes, Clegg puzzled for a brief second as he realised that Hammond’s shoes were covered in a fine layer of wood dust.
“Strange” muttered Clegg to himself as he disentangled his arm from Hammond’s lower leg.
“What did you say fag?” Bellowed Cameron, craning his neck and peering below the crisp white table cloth.
“N-Nothing sir!” Cowered Clegg, scrambling back to his previous position at the feet of his master and enthusiastically starting where he left off, cleaning Cameron’s shoes with long, careful strokes of his tongue.
“You’d better make sure they’re clean fag!” Threatened Cameron, his face so twisted with rage that the wax that holds his eyes in place began to distort. His left eye slid upwards and was now fixed on the intricacies of the chandelier that dominated the ornate ceiling. Another servant rushed to Cameron’s side and nervously pushed the eye back into place, producing a scraper and sculpting the distorted wax back into its smooth, latex like state. Cameron blinked furiously for a few seconds, moving his head around and looking at random objects and people as his eyesight readjusted. Satisfied that the repair was carried out correctly, Cameron switched his gaze to the servant who had repaired him.
“You!” He snapped. The servant stood motionless, head bowed.
“Yes Sir” The servant replied, his voice trembling slightly as his thumbs danced around each other in a nervous fidget.
“What is your name?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.
“David Laws Sir!” He replied, his eyes firmly on the floor.
“Well Laws!” Spat Cameron. “You’d best be quicker off the mark next time!” Laws took in a sharp breath. Cameron aimed his words over Laws and at the other servants scrurrying about the room.
“You’d all better be quicker off the mark!” They all stopped and looked at Cameron, their eyes wide with fear. “I’ve already told you I’ll have your pensions if you don’t!” He said, his words sharp. Kicking out his leg he caught Clegg in the side of the face. “That includes you fag! Gold plated or not, your pension can be gone in the blink of an eye!” Clegg responded by licking faster.

Letting out a theatrical sigh, Cameron turned to Philip Hammond. He was busying himself by smiling as menacingly as he could into a compact mirror whilst lighting cigarettes. Frowning now and again, he flicked the lit cigarettes away with his cuprinol brown fingers and repeated the whole thing, over and over. Cameron paused as he watched, his eyes rolling. He rolled them slowly this time. The episode a moment earlier where his skin wax had distorted had left his eye socket sore.
“For the love of god Phillip!” He barked. Hammond wrenched his gaze from the mirror and extinguished both the latest cigarette, and his threatening grin, focussing on Cameron fully, snapping the compact mirror briskly closed.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” The servants went about their business, pretending not to be listening. “Britain’s Got Talent will not take you on as an impressionist!” Hammond’s shoulders sagged.
“But I look just like him!” He said, his finger tracing his leather like jawline. “Everybody says so!”
“Take it from me” sighed Cameron, absent-mindedly smoothing down the wax near his eye. “You’ll do no business as a Cancer Man impressionist!” Hammond let out a sigh, his demeanour one of deflation. “For god’s sake Phillip! Nobody even knows who he is nowadays!” Hammond’s feelings had been hurt, and he crossed his arms, examining the opulent patterns of the deep piled carpet. “I wouldn’t have even known who he was had it not been for those oiks on the Labour benches! The fucking X-Files! Infecting parliament with their working class rubbish!” Cameron snapped his fingers. David Laws came running. Nick Clegg banged his head on the underside of the table, swearing under his breath as he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Don’t forget the laces!” hissed Cameron under the table.
“Yes master” replied Clegg wearily, his tongue now coated in an oil slick of black polish and grime.
“Don’t just stand there Laws! Get me another port! Chop Chop!” Laws bowed his head and disappeared, returning a moment later with a fresh glass containing a rich red serving of finest port.
“Excellent Laws! Go now!” he said, waving his hand in a regal fashion. David laws bowed his head once more and turned, heading meekly for the servants quarters.
“Right, on with business!” said Cameron, rubbing his hands together. “How are we doing with the hit list?
“Perhaps I can help with that one?” offered a voice from across the room. Cameron and Hammond turned to look in the direction of the voice. It was Andrew Landsley.
Cameron pinched his nose. “I’ve told you Landsley, no talking to me! The only time you should be opening that idiotic mouth of yours is to put the other foot in it! I tried to get a doctor to sew it up but none of them will agree to be in the same room as you!” Landsley stood in the middle of the room looking glum. “If you want to get your ‘Privatisation & Franchise’ version of The Sims back this side of Christmas, I suggest you do as you’re told and jolly well keep quiet!”
“Yes David!” sighed Landsley, as he trudged back toward the open door. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he forlornly disappeared into the corridor.

“Hit List, Phillip!” Cameron barked. Phillip Hammond fumbled in his pocket, fishing out a piece of folded paper. Methodically he unfolded it, laying it on the table, taking care to ensure it was at right angles to the place mat. He produced a fine looking fountain pen, and having unscrewed the lid, made a show of scrutinising the carefully formulated script. Chewing gently on his bottom lip, Hammond produced his best ‘Cancer Man’ smile.
“All things considered, I believe we’re not doing too badly at all!” he announced.
“Details man, details!” ordered Cameron, leaning forward slightly, his tongue gliding across his wax lips as the scent of exploitation filled his nostrils.
Hammond clapped his hands twice. Two servants came scrambling through the door wheeling a large display board between them. Hammond pointed to a spot directly in front of Cameron. The servants duly complied, manoeuvring the board into position and standing there awaiting further instruction.
Cameron studied the pair of them.
“Don’t I know you two?” he asked. Hesitantly one of them stepped forward, his hands folded in front of him.
“Danny Alexander Sir!” he said. “And this is Chris Huhne” Alexander motioned nervously toward his colleague. Ignoring them Cameron turned his glare back to Hammond.
“Continue” he said.
“As you can see” began Hammond, producing a pointing stick from his suit pocket, “We have made good progress in short time” the tip of the stick rested on the surface of the board, just an inch away from a library book. The cover was unreadable. The book was dog eared and tattered, its spine and most of the text stained in a deep red.
“Is that blood Hammond?” asked Cameron hopefully.
“Oh, er, no” answered Hammond “Its ribena from a librarian’s stomach” Cameron looked on intrigued. “When we closed down the library we were forced to give her the statutory redundancy notice verbally as well as in writing, and she couldn’t ‘stomach’ all the noise!” Both men enjoyed the joke, throwing their heads back in laughter and pleasure as they imagined the harrowing mental image. Regaining himself, Hammond pushed on.
“So what’s that?” Asked Cameron, lightly stroking his chin. Hammond was now pointing to a white piece of paper. It was difficult to make out the text, but you could clearly see that the word ‘CANCELLED’ had been stamped across it.
“This is a pension statement from a schoolteacher” replied Hammond gleefully. “One of our biggest victories!” he said, the excitement clear in his voice.
Cameron nodded sagely, a slight expression of pride spreading across his waxy cheeks.
“I mean, honestly! Spluttered Hammond. “What makes these teachers think they’re entitled to retire before 65? Since when have they made millions running big corporations?”
“Quite right!” agreed Cameron as he held up his port glass, motioning to a servant to replenish its contents. “Make sure the press think I’m drinking guinness” he whispered. The servant nodded obediently, refilling the glass and disappearing discreetly.
“I mean, if these scroungers wanted to retire at a reasonable age, they should’ve formed a company and evaded their tax bill!” spat Hammond. Both men shared a gaze as they basked in the moment.
“Phillip” said Cameron, pointing at the board. “What is this?” Hammond looked at the board and flushed a little.
“That’s a nurse’s uniform” Hammond tried to look as businesslike as possible. For a second neither man said anything.
“So I’m guessing that this is to show that we’re dealing with all the lazy nurses in the health service?” asked Cameron, his eyebrows raised.
“I suppose so” stammered Hammond, fidgeting.
“You suppose so??”
“What can I say?” he said, defending himself. “I like polyester!” Cameron put his head in his hands.

“So what is the blank space for?” asked Cameron from between his fingers. Hammond wasn’t listening. He had the mirror open again, practising that grin, moving the mirror from left to right in the search for the perfect angle.
“Phillip!” screeched Cameron. In the corner a servant dropped a plate in shock, its fragments scattering across the floor. In a flash the servant was on his knees, scrambling to gather the pieces together, hoping his indiscretion had been missed.
Choosing to ignore the broken plate, Cameron fixed Hammond with an icy glare. “For the love of all things that are good and fucking green about this country, focus man!” For the second time, Hammond snapped the mirror closed and stuffed it into his pocket.
“But David, it’s my thing!” Hammond moved to take a cigarette from the packet on the table, but thought better of it, his hands returning to his lap.
“I’m sorry David” whispered Hammond. “I suppose I just fell in love with the idea of making people laugh with my smile rather than frightening children”
“Did someone mention children?” Cameron craned his neck, glaring into the far corner of the room. From behind the hat stand appeared Michael Gove, his withered fingers outstretched in a menacing fashion as he glided across the floor, the sun causing the stack of his angled top hat to give off a dull sheen.
“For goodness sake!” despaired Cameron, slamming his palm down onto the table, sending an echo around the room “Michael, do not make me regret making you Schools Secretary! It was against my instinct to give the job to a child catcher, but I gave you a chance! Get out and do your job!”
Gove’s nostrils were twitching. His eyes darted left and right, his body tensed and ready to pounce as his senses picked up the unmistakable scent of child.
“Quite right old bean, quite right!” bumbled Gove, backing towards the door. “How remiss of me! Something has come up! Please excuse me!” with that he turned and made for the door, his footsteps fading into silence. A few seconds later the lull was pierced by the blood curdling scream of an adolescent. Hammond and Cameron looked at the open door.
“He never misses” mused Cameron.
“Extraordinary” said Hammond, his stare remaining on the door, his eyes unblinking.
“Hammond!” breathed Cameron. Phillip Hammond looked at him blankly. “Empty space?” Cameron motioned at the board.
“Ah yes!” said Hammond, regaining his thoughts. “This one is slightly trickier than the last” he said, his face grimacing slightly.
“Tricky?” asked Cameron, one eyebrow raising.
“This space is for the Train Drivers” said Hammond.
“Well, we’ve just started laying the ground for our attack, but it’s going to get complicated”
“How so?”
“Well, we’ve used a lot of the standard mood music we were using with the others” Hammond gestured at the board, pausing for a second to shoo away Huhne and Alexander, sneaking a feel of the nurse’s uniform before it disappeared out of the door with the two servants.
Regaining himself, Hammond continued.
“You know, overpaid, lazy, outdated procedures, need for reform, blah blah blah!” Hammond waved his hand.
Cameron nodded. “By all that, I’m hoping I’m reading this as cut cut cut!” Both men smiled, sharing the conspiracy.
“Absolutely!” said Hammond. “But it’s not as simple as it seems”
“How can it not be?” spluttered Cameron. “These bastards earn over £40,000 per year! And they weren’t even bankrolled through private school by their parents! They have a pension that will pay for their old age, but they don’t have a trust fund!” Cameron was enraged. A small bead of wax was melting and started rolling slowly down his forehead. Hammond motioned to smooth it in for Cameron, but thought better of it.
“I’ve always said Hammond!” shouted Cameron, his anger climbing still further. “If you have to rely on your pension when you retire, you don’t come from the right stock in life to deserve one!” Cameron picked up his port glass and emptied it with a single gulp before throwing it at the oak panelled wall, sending glass shards flying everywhere. Under the table, Clegg grabbed the table leg, overtaken with fear.
“What’s the problem?” demanded Cameron. "Just get The Sun and The Times to do what they normally do and run hatchet pieces about their union” Hammond remained silent as he listened. “All the readers will be so envious they’ll turn on them, we can make out we’re taking on vested interests, and hey presto another barrier is moved from our path!” Hammond looked down at his lap.
“What?” asked Cameron.
“It’s a private industry” muttered Hammond.
“Say that again” hissed Cameron, his voice quivering.
“It’s a private industry David” Hammond smiled awkwardly. “We privatised it if you remember”
“How can this be?” asked Cameron, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“I don’t know” whispered Hammond.
“How come the bastards are so well paid then?” demanded Cameron. “Why didn’t they go the way of the buses?” Hammond shrugged. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” he shouted.
“You see my problem David” Hammond said flatly.
“There’s no problem!” growled Cameron. “Just lie!” He stood up, pacing back and forth as his mind hurtled.
“We lied about the coal miners in the 80’s, we lied about the cuts last year, we’ve lied about bigger things than this Hammond!”
“But David” questioned Hammond “How am I supposed to get past the problem that they will just say it’s all our fault?”
“Let them say what they want!” snarled Cameron. His right ear had dropped an inch due to his sweating, the wax starting to thin and stretch. He hadn’t noticed, and Hammond decided it wasn’t the best time to point it out. “We own the press for god’s sake!” “They say it’s our fault, we say they’re greedy, they’re outdated, they’re lazy, they’re socialists! I want those pensions Hammond! I want them! Nobody should have a pension that works unless they’re an MP or they run a big business! I’ve had enough of these unions thinking they can upset the natural order of things by getting good deals for the working man! I won’t have it!
“Yes David!” answered Hammond, not daring to open his mirror a third time. Cameron strode across to the window. Michael Gove was sitting on the lawns, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Next to him was a small pair of jeans. He delicately picked them up and placed them carefully in a nearby bin before silently gliding back toward the door. Cameron decided he had had enough of people putting these problems in the path of his grand masterplan. He could not believe the barefaced cheek of these Train Drivers and their ‘ASLEF’ band of communists actually believing they are entitled to have an opinion on safety and pay! How dare they? Cameron spun around to face Hammond. His ear finally gave way and broke free, skidding across the carpeted floor and coming to rest near the drinks cabinet. Clegg crawled hurriedly across the floor on his hands and knees and retrieved it, carefully cleaning it of carpet fibres and dirt before proudly offering it to his master.
“Good work Slave!” Barked Cameron as Clegg re-attached the ear and moulded the moist wax back into shape, producing a comb and reinforcing the curve of Cameron’s quiff at the same time.
“Hammond!” he hissed. “Nobody has a pension unless we, as Tories think they deserve it! Nobody gets a living wage unless their breeding signifies they are worthy! Train Drivers are no different! Make it clear that they will be worked like dogs until they drop, and the only pause they will be allowed will be to thank us for it!”
“Yes David!” replied Hammond obediently. He gathered his papers and rose from his seat. Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.
“David” he said.
“What?” spat Cameron, grimacing as Clegg moulded the bottom of his ear lobe to the wax on the side of his head.
“Why don’t we just solve the problem by putting robots in the front of trains?” Cameron sighed.
“We tried putting one in charge of London and look where that’s gotten us!” Hammond nodded to himself, turning and heading for the relative cool of the corridor.
“Hammond, there will be no excuses! These Train Drivers must be cut down before they start giving other workers the crazy notion that they can get decent wages and pensions too! This nation was not built on fairness and justice! It was built on Conservative values!”
“Yes David!” called Hammond from the corridor.
“There! Finished!” announced Clegg as he smoothed the last part of Cameron’s ear into place.
“Good work Clegg!” said Cameron. “Now get yourself into the laundry! You finished my shoes but you haven’t started on my britches yet!” Clegg’s shoulders sagged. “I warn you Clegg” said Cameron with a wicked smile. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the gym this last week, so I hope your tongue is up to the strain!”
“Yes master!” groaned Clegg as he trudged away in the direction of the laundry room.
“Good boy!” cooed Cameron. “We might just get a full five years out of you yet!”
Looking over the sprawling greens from the window, Cameron breathed in deeply as he surveyed his kingdom. In the distance he heard Clegg sobbing gently as the laundry bin slammed shut.
"God bless the coalition!" he said with a smile.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

AV Explained, & Why I'll Be Voting Yes To Fairer Votes!

Tomorrow, you have the privilege of deciding whether we continue to elect MPs using the traditional First Past The Post (FPTP) system, or change to the Alternative Vote (AV)

David Cameron and his bedfellows within the Tory Party, certain parts of the Labour Party, and even the trade unions have been busily soiling the debate on this issue since campaigning began, peddling half truths, lies and misconceptions about why AV should not be used.

But how does it work?

AV at its simplest works as follows;

* Voters rank the candidates standing in the election in order of preference, marking ‘1’ ‘2’ and ‘3’ next to the candidate’s name instead of an ‘X’
* In order to win the election, a candidate needs to secure more than 50% of the votes.
* In the event that no candidate secures 50% of the vote, your votes for second and third preference are taken into account, and distributed to the candidates, with each candidate who is in last place after subsequent counts being eliminated.
* The counts continue until a candidate secures 50% of the votes.

The largest advantage of AV is that it will bring to an end the days where tired and crusty MPs can renew their season tickets for the parliamentary gravy train by pandering to their core vote and ignoring the needs of everybody else, because the candidate who wins the election will have to have support from a majority of constituents.

So now I have explained the basic tenets of AV, let’s look at some of the lies and misinformation that the ‘No’ campaign have been spreading in an attempt to prevent you from receiving the representation you deserve!

AV will allow the BNP a foothold in parliament;
Not true. Even Nick Griffin doesn’t want AV. He has said himself that the BNP could never get an MP under that system.

When you look at the way people tend to vote, I am sure that if they had to list a second choice now, most Labour voters would choose a party or candidate of similar ideals to their first choice. The same can be said of traditional Tory voters. In stronghold Labour areas, you would see votes going to Greens, Local candidates, other left wing parties, and in the regions to the nationalist parties. In strong Tory areas you would see more going to UKIP and other right of centre candidates, as well as independents and nationalists.

A very small minority of people who vote Labour may vote BNP as a second choice. This, I believe would be more out of frustration with the failure of the main parties to represent their views pr engage with the electorate. Therefore, if people turn to extremist parties like the BNP, we should not be tying their hands so as to prevent them doing so, we should be taking notice when they tell us they are not happy. We should then be acting so as to stop them WANTING to vote for extremists.

Every Vote for the Facist BNP Scum is a defeat for mainstream political parties, and NOT a reason to deny the electors of this great nation a fairer system of choosing their representatives and advocates.

AV is too complicated;
What a bucket of drivel! Is the Prime Minister seriously saying to you that a voting system whereby you mark a ‘1’ next to your first choice, a ‘2’ next to your second choice, and a ‘3’ next to your third choice is too complicated for you to understand????

Apparently our multi millionaire, public schoolboy PM and his Eton chum Boris also think that you cannot fathom the principle that, when a candidate secures more than 50% of the vote they win, and if nobody secures more than 50%, the votes are recounted, and redistributed using 2nd and 3rd choice votes, with candidates gaining the lowest vote dropping out until one candidate passes the 50% threshold!!

It really is quite simple, and their arrogance toward the British public is staggering.

Then again, so is their hypocrisy!

Not only was Boris elected on a kind of AV in the London Mayoral election, so was David Cameron when he beat David Davis to become the Leader of the Conservative Party!

These are also the same two who are quietly making moves to force trade unions by law into the position where they can only withdraw their labour if more than 50% of the workers balloted turnout and agree! This despite the UK having some of the most restrictive trade union laws in Western Europe and the developed world!

So a democratic benchmark laid down in electoral procedure is good enough to stop the plebes fighting for fair working conditions, but it’s not adequate for us plebes to use in order to elect our representatives!

AV is unfair because a candidate coming 3rd, 4th, 5th, or even 8th could get elected.

This really is a misrepresentation of the whole system!

Gutter press right wing rags like The Sun would have you believe that this is true, but really it isn’t!

Whilst technically possible, it is far, far more likely that you as a voter will get the MP that you truly want!

These candidates have to attract votes, be there first or second choices. That means that they have to make sure that they appeal to more than just their party’s core support, as opposed to the current system where political parties parachute their chosen apparatchiks into safe seats, safe in the knowledge that they are safe from scrutiny or risk of failure.

Surely, this is better for democracy, better for justice, and better for you as a voter!!

I cannot understand why it is that trade unions are opposing this measure. It gives people more of a chance to hold their MP to account, bringing to an end the age of lazy MPs who know they are untouchable. (This is true of both Labour and Tory)

The trade unions champion the ideals of fairer representation, improved justice, and the right to redress for their members. Why should it be different when talking about parliament?

Sure, AV is not the ideal solution. Proportional Representation (PR) would be the best bet for us all. At the last election, we had the situation where a party received 23% of votes cast, but only received 8.8% of parliamentary seats!

But whilst PR is surely the goal that as progressives we should aim for, AV is a first step on that journey. Change in our country has hardly ever been by revolution, as evolution has always been the dominant taste on the menu. Is it a surprise that this is no different?

I cannot understand why the Labour Party oppose this either, other than the fact that they know that it will bring to an end the dominance of politics that they enjoy with the Tories.

What they fail to understand, is that bringing an end to the FPTP system will likely being an end to the insane situation where the conservatives can govern, despite hardly ever having enjoyed a democratic majority, thus ensuring that progressive politics is the ruling force in British Politics.

As a bonus, in the event that the vote goes against David Cameron, his standing amongst his fellow millionaires in the cabinet would be heavily damaged, and the coalition will be struck a huge blow!

People may be tempted to vote 'No' as a slap in the face to serial U-Turner Nick Clegg. Resist the urge! The fact that he agrees with AV does not make it wrong, it merely will make it more satisfying to give him an electoral beating under a fairer system!

The Tory party have always been a force for the status quo.

They are not interested in making things fairer. They do not believe in progressive change. So I am not surprised that they are going full force to oppose AV. If they had their way, unions would have no power, workers would have no rights, and only the privileged would have the right to any influence.

So I would respectfully advise against believing anything The Sun, or The Daily Mail tell you. They are opposed to change because they are in business to do the bidding of the rich and powerful.

Look at the arguments, digest the logic, have a think about whether you truly believe it is fairer for our parliamentary make up to be decided in a handful of seats, with every voter living elsewhere being irrelevant, and with political parties abusing the loyalty of voters by using safe seats to give jobs to their chosen protégés..

Or whether you think it’s only right and fair to expect a candidate to receive the support of 50% of voters in that constituency, thus making them listen to you more, and work for you harder?

If you agree with me that parliamentary elections should be fair, and MPs should serve us, and not their own narrow interests, VOTE YES TO AV ON MAY 5TH