The worrying people

who are after

your vote on Thursday

Kenneth Roy

I have done something beyond the call of duty if not actually beyond endurance. I have watched all 18 party election broadcasts of the Holyrood campaign. The results I bring you in two parts. In part I: some worrying people who want your vote on Thursday. In part II: more worrying people who want your vote on Thursday. I start with the minor parties in order of appearance:
 
A party election broadcast by the Scottish Greens
'This is an extraordinary country', declares an unidentified woman. 'Full of potential. Industrious. Fair minded'.
      The first duty of a party election broadcast is to be as cloudily patriotic as possible. Nothing bad about Scotland or the Scots must be uttered. We're surprisingly wonderful. If we have a fault, it is that we tend to elect the wrong politicians – according to other politicians.
     More talking heads appear in this one than in any of the others. Who are these people in the fetching scarves? Are they party activists? Or are they that strange breed, 'ordinary voters'? No one is named, although I do recognise that thrawn farmer in Aberdeenshire who wouldn't budge for The Donald.
     It is a confusion of sound bites and half-baked notions. But I note 'affordable public transport' as a suggestion and taxing the rich 'to defend public services' is twice mentioned. University tuition fees should be 'free'. The arts should be 'valued'.
     If I were adjudicating this production as I once adjudicated drama festivals, I would say that it had pace, a certain liveliness, but little coherence. A leading actor was required as well as the anonymous chorus. Lovely set, though; the pictures were nice. The people too. Terribly earnest.

A party election broadcast by the Scottish Socialist Party
Here is a man with a helmet over his head. An unseen woman – the narrator or moral inspector of the piece – seems to be addressing him; imploring him. 'Hey, helmet heid', she says, 'what ye doin kettling kids?'. There is no response. The camera stays fixed on the upper half of the man's body, observing any nuance of a facial muscle. Where is this mini-drama going?
     Then I realise. It is Samuel Beckett.
     'They should be cutting Trident, not services', the woman continues in a whining, know-all monotone. 'Too many MSPs earning a fortune defending the rich and spending our money on second homes for themselves and their pet ducks'.
     To what duck does she refer? In whose constituency is it to be found? Is she not perhaps confusing MSPs with MPs? Why doesn't helmet-heid demand to know the precise whereabouts of the duck? Instead all we get is his unnerving silence.
     'It is about time we said no', she demands. No to what, exactly? It is far from clear. At this rallying call, Everyman obligingly removes his headgear: the revolution may be about to begin. But he's still standing there like an idiot, listening to the monologue, immobilised by boredom, or fear, or both. He could be waiting for Godot, like the rest of us. Or maybe he's hoping for a guest appearance by George Galloway dressed as the pantomime cat.
     Weird. Seriously weird. Yet not without artistic imagination. By the end of the production I wanted to scream. I imagine poor Tommy, in his lonely cell, must have felt the same.

A party election broadcast by the Scottish Christian Party
Everything about this production is angry. Even the fax machine spewing out Christian literature in the opening sequence manages to sound angry. The room has a hollow acoustic, which somehow underlines the indignant mood of everyone in it. A man is pointing at me in quite a combative way. Clearly he is not happy about something. Yet he is talking of tolerance.
     Well, I'm with him there. I too approve of tolerance. Up to a point.
     'We should live in a tolerant society', he says, 'but sadly we don't'. For example – I sense we're about to hear about the intolerant society – Christians who 'refuse to endorse the homosexual lifestyle' are not tolerated. The 'elderly couple' (in their 50s: I checked) who refused a double bed in their B&B to two gay men are not tolerated. They are 'taken to court by the government' (they weren't).
     I was so intrigued by this production that I decided to find out more about the Scottish Christian Party. It seems the party proposes a referendum on the restoration of the death penalty, legislation to ban abortion, a public health campaign to discourage homosexuality, the right of parents to spank their children, tighter restrictions on immigration, official discouragement of the practice of addressing women as Ms, and the preservation of the sand eel.
     There are votes in this manifesto. In the Western Isles in 2005, the party came fourth ahead of the Conservatives, polling 1,048 votes. I expect they were all supporters of the sand eel as, indeed, I am myself.

A party election broadcast by the British National Party
The tolerant Christians are everywhere. In tonight's production, one of the characters is a man of the cloth complete with dog collar and mustard-coloured waistcoat. He makes a cameo appearance in support of the BNP's charitable work, while others bemoan the politicians who 'pour our money down the drain and are only in it for themselves'. There is surprisingly little talk of foreigners. The new, cuddly BNP – is this the ultimate oxymoron?

A party election broadcast by the UK Independence Party
Smoothychops Nigel Farage – something of a matinee idol – thinks we should 'listen to the people'. On this occasion, however, the people must listen to Nigel Farage and his views on the Scottish Parliament.
     'Good for politicians...lots of big buildings, a busy nice life, and all of it costing a fortune'. I wonder what gave Mr Farage the curious idea that MSPs have a busy nice life. Perhaps he meant a busy night life. In Edinburgh? The populist hatred of politicians by other politicians is now a theme. They're all at it.
     We hear a variety of reasons for supporting UKIP from some scary looking people – presumably the sort that Nigel Farage listens to.
     One of them snarls at the camera: 'We need less politicians'.
     'Fewer', I yell back at the screen. 'Fewer, you illiterate fool'.
     Despite the Scottish Christian Party's best efforts, I am becoming less tolerant by the day.

A party election broadcast by the All-Scotland Pensioners Party
'A deep depression has settled over Scotland's senior citizens', complains one of their number at the start of this feeble presentation. I am reminded of the older types encountered on the buses, brandishing their free passes, of which there is no mention in the script. How can anyone talk for five minutes about Scotland's pensioners and not mention the bus pass? It is all too possible.

A party election broadcast by the Socialist Labour Party
The woman who introduces this glum entertainment – her name is Louise McDaid – is so doom-laden that I assume she has recently received some very bad news. Unlike the others, this party is admirably explicit about what it wants. It wants a £41 a week increase in the state pension, the revival of the coal-mining industry, and public ownership of the railways.
     Whatever else it is, the Socialist Labour Party isn't a bundle of laughs. Take your hankie to one of its productions, and prepare to howl.

A party election broadcast by the Scottish Greens
Haven't I seen those scarves somewhere before? Oh, look, there's the man who thinks the arts should be valued. It's just another BBC repeat. It's deja vu all over again.

Tomorrow: more worrying people who want your vote on Thursday – an adjudication of the performances of Alex Salmond, Iain Gray, Tavish Scott and Annabel Goldie

Kenneth Roy is editor of the Scottish Review