Well, they’re under starter’s orders. If it were sheep, they’d be in the pen; racehorses, and it’ll be the collecting ring.

Think political and it’s difficult not to be torn between sheep and horses – the passive, easily-led and risk-averse, against the brashness of the turf with mega amounts of cash to wager with capricious abandon and which, despite the excitement of rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful, will end in the sad inevitability of expensive humiliation.

But, let’s be generous and go with the more glamorous analogy and invite the punters to examine the form books and the runners and riders to prepare for a desperate gallop to the line for the thrill of short-term adulation and extra hay while the sun shines.  It’s certainly a mixed field – novices, three-year-olds, geldings, stallions and a couple of cart-horses thrown in for good measure.

Nevertheless, the lack of any serious competition will ensure a liberal distribution of winners’ rosettes, despite one group of cross-breeds having been institutionally ‘nobbled’ to allow more fun for the local ponies and a stewards’ inquiry still unable to overturn the handicap.
We were certainly promised a fresh start.  As near as we’ve come to a general election.  Of course, being the Jersey way, it didn’t quite live up to expectation and some seats will indeed slip under the wire this time round.  Six Senators will watch from the stands, and now three Deputies and eight Constables will already be supping champagne in the winners’ enclosure.

The hooves of the Senator/Deputy stalking horse ruse may have been clipped, but don’t despair, familiar colours will still be displayed when all the razzmatazz is over.

There will be some notable absentees, but whatever devices have been employed – such as promises to return when things get better;  hollow protestations of reluctance to stand overturned by apparent last-minute popular persuasion and sympathy along with the prospect of a favoured new tailor-made sinecure;  the former headmaster attempting to reinvent himself as a new boy;  the prodigal Chief Prefect returning from planet obscurity to save the entire institution from itself;  along with the ‘usual suspects’ confident that longevity, fiefdom or patronage will bestow an automatic continuity in the style to which they have grown accustomed, the mix will be very much as
before.

But for now, the wolves are prowling around the fold – we’re back to the sheep analogy, I’m afraid – demanding real answers of incumbents about their record and intentions.

Just bringing a proposition doesn’t count, nor, any longer, does asking a ministerial question. The last intake gathered up a couple of mute swans including a self-appointed attendance monitor and a refreshing taste of academic debating eccentricity.

As we’re about to be blitzed with home visits, craftily honed promises and manifestos,  the legitimate question for all seeking to renew their tenure has to be: ‘What did you actually achieve that benefited the folk who pay your salaries?’ While for those seeking office: ‘What genuinely makes you feel you can do better?’

Since the adoption of ministerial government, we’ve grown accustomed to representatives of all three arms of the legislature taking on a hotch-potch of ministerial duties such as has blurred any distinction in their roles in the Chamber. It has meant early ministerial call-up for some before their feet have had time to tread the gravitas.

The trouble is, the sooner the commission, the shallower the gene pool, resulting in unfulfilled promises to local electors and departmental fragility.  In the pursuit of a new, streamlined and reformed States Chamber, I’ve always contended that Constables should be treated separately, as respected fathers – and mothers – of their parish operating as CEO and active promoter/guardian of their district and community.

They should certainly retain their voice and their vote in the House, but in order to best fulfil those responsibilities; they should definitely not be trammelled with ministerial portfolios. The post of parish Deputy should be abolished altogether, with all remaining Members elected on an Islandwide basis, because it is our collective wellbeing they’re charged with upholding.

They would continue to be drawn from every quarter of the Island, so any argument about lack of connection with their regional electorate would be meaningless.  At a stroke, it would prepare all general Members for ministerial or Scrutiny responsibilities – since both are equally important, and conspire to give strategy, review and accountability greater teeth, while ridding the assembly of the unedifying  spectacle of petty local point-scoring and grandstanding.

But let’s not get too far ahead.  Despite all the ‘ground-breaking’ epithets, in good stop/go local tradition, the fevered overnight excitement of a general election as conducted elsewhere will not be allowed to overtake our new political experiment.  The vital need for ‘shut-eye’ in our far-flung constituencies will ensure that it’ll be a long-run thing.

And then there’s the potential farce over the choice of the new Chief Minister.  Unless Standing Orders are changed, it’ll be the ‘old boys’ who will have the last laugh in putting their stamp on the future incumbent.  Who forgot to check the rule book, I wonder?

However, the fact that 82 candidates have been prepared to throw their caps onto the ring for what remains of the 51 seats is an endorsement that even in a community of 50,000 voters there are those sufficiently energised to face the inevitable brick-bats that now go with public office, and strive to keep our ‘floating piggy-bank’ on an even keel. And, with Hedley Le Maistre in charge of rounding up the stragglers, how can we possibly lose?