I mean what is the point? i

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/education/3412869.stm

I spent all last night feeling depressed. I mean, I knew it would get through. But by 5 votes? Five? Shame on all those who abstained. Shame on the Scottish MPs. Shame on the ones who voted for. Shame on all those MPs from middle class backgrounds who don’t understand how privileged they are. Shame on all those MPs from working class backgrounds, who got to Westminster purely on the back of an excellent state-education and a state-provided university education. Shame on them. And I don’t use the word ‘shame’ lightly.

I spoke to Jack last night in the midst of my misery, “Let’s move abroad. I don’t want to be English any more. I don’t want to be associated with the things we do.” It’s a thought I haven’t had since the war on Iraq. It’s a sad thought to have.

I spent all this morning drafting devastating, insightful, incisive letters in my head. Letters I would send to MPs, newspapers and political comment television and radio programmes. Letters to change the world. Letters to topple a government. But now that I’m in front of my email, I feel the most awful lethargy, and it’s almost worse than the moment god knows how long ago when I realised that they were really going to go to war and kill people over weapons that didn’t exist. Because, I mean it – what is the point?

The only hope I have, and that people like me have, is hoping that the Conservatives get in at the next election. And that’s a pretty miserable state of affairs for someone like me. I disagree with the Conservatives on, oooooh, pretty much everything.

So instead I have written not millions of letters. But just one letter. And I’m going to post it here while I decide whether I have the energy to fax my MP and write to the Guardian.

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