AS a burgher good and true of this little rock, I really should have made the effort to attend a hustings meeting, but as my mind was made up from day one, why waste a perfectly good evening?

There are far better things to do on a summer’s night than listen to no-hopers use their 15 seconds of fame to pontificate on how they alone can change the States.

Somehow a by-election just isn’t as interesting as when the end result, in theory at least, could produce six new Members, although it usually just results in a game of seat-swapping.
Politics is a very serious business, mainly because those in whom the people put their faith to rule their lives have to make vital decisions and, in the process, spend the hard-earned cash that taxpayers reluctantly hand over to the Treasury.

Nonetheless, wouldn’t it be nice for a change if a candidate was perfectly honest and, unlike all politicians, didn’t just spout out the same old dribble in the hope of being elected?

One person can’t make a difference in the real world of politics, as even the most powerful politician in the world, the President of the United States, has discovered over and over again. In the real political world, governments are ruled by parties, coalitions and factions who make deals behind closed doors, regardless of the electorate’s mandate.

Mr Obama may have succeeded where Bill Clinton failed, in reforming America’s health care, but the changes won were a shadow of his election platform promises.

Politics, as the British people are now learning as the UK is ruled for the first time in peace by a coalition, is a business of compromise, negotiation and accepting that no matter how much a party or political leader may believe in something, it ain’t going happen without concessions.

Election candidates in our fair isle can make promise after pledge about how they are going to change the States and the way we are governed, while also rallying the people to their just causes, but if they can’t persuade the inmates of the Laughter Factory to vote with them when it counts, they will be about as much use as a chocolate watch in a heat wave.

If only life was as Hollywood likes to tell it.

A particular favourite film of mine is The Candidate (and not just because it stars Robert Redford). Made in 1972, it is about an idealistic Californian lawyer, Bill McKay (Redford), who is persuaded to run for the Senate against an apparently unbeatable incumbent.

With the Democrat Party’s approval to conduct his campaign his own way, McKay is totally transparent throughout and in the absence of spin tells voters what he thinks with utmost honesty and integrity.

The only problem is that instead of simply enjoying the ride, he wins. The closing scene depicts McKay sitting incredulously between his campaign managers, asking them what the hell happens next!

The UK has the delightfully mad Monster Raving Loony Party to provide some light relief with a manifesto for the recent general election which included policies such as banning all terrorists from having beards, because they look too scary, and instead of selling socks in pairs, they should be sold in packs of three as a precaution against losing one.

Notwithstanding the general lunacy of the party’s proposals, they had one policy that made the utmost common sense. They proposed that all politicians be made to swear a ‘hypocritic oath’ preventing them by law from being hypocrites. That way, all politicians would be made to stand by their policies, or at least admit that they were wrong.

A ray of hope that one day the Island’s electorate will get so fed up that they will vote for some light relief and candidates who have no intention of taking themselves seriously came shining through the volcanic dust from Iceland at the end of May.

When it came to voting in the local elections in Reykjavik, the good people of that far-flung city decided that enough was enough. Instead of putting their trust in the established parties, they showed their disgust at the politicians and bankers who wrecked their economy and did a pretty good job at precipitating the global recession, by voting for political novices.

The Best Party was formed just six months ago by Iceland’s most popular comedian, Jon Gnarr, who along with some sound eco-friendly policies promised free towels in all public swimming pools, a polar bear for the city zoo and turning Iceland’s main airport into a franchise of Disneyland.

An 83% poll (dream on, Jersey) gave the Best Party 34.7% of the vote and six of 15 seats in the city council, making them the majority party and a very new force to be reckoned with.

A political party, or coalition of like-minded individuals, with fresh ideas is exactly what this apathetic Island needs to inject some enthusiasm at election time. The more bizarre the better, but honesty must be their byword. Who knows, like the unsuspecting McKay, they could actually win.

No doubt, dear reader, there is many an old crapaud among you who thinks we have enough comedic turns in the house. Maybe, but if they are to continue to lead us all down the swannee, we might as well get a real laugh or two along the sorry way.