''POLITICS: gen term for products of the hubris plants Politics indica
and Politics sativa containing the active principle tetrahyrdoegomania
and related compounds of self-regard, self-importance, and self-abuse.
There are a variety of synonyms, majorijuana, blairja, and hashdown
being the most common . . .''
MEDICAL literature tells only half the story. Amid fears that huge
consignments of low-grade ''presidential'' politics have been smuggled
into Britain in recent years via the so-called Bubba Connection,
evidence is growing that abuse of the drug has become commonplace at all
levels of society. The consequences are, to be blunt, just tragic.
Consider, for example, the recent well-documented case of the young,
personable, and otherwise intelligent barrister who suffered 'visions''
after overdosing on the drug. Condemned now to a life dependent on
round-the-clock ego care and intravenous manifestos, ''Tony'' has little
to look forward to, and only a fading memory of the happy days when he
was taken seriously to look back on.
Consider, too, the many reports from up and down the country of
ordinary citizens, single mothers, nurses and rail workers among them,
savagely assaulted and robbed blind by politics-crazed individuals
forced into crime to sustain their habit.
What began as a dinner-party joke about yobs has become a vicious
sub-culture stopping at nothing to score a few votes. One speech leads
to another: it is a slippery slope. How, then, can we make our young
aware of the risks? If you must use politics, remember never to inhale.
While certain so-called experts proclaim it a harmless recreational
drug, others have demonstrated that repeated use can lead to paranoia
and short-term memory loss, especially when being asked simple policy
questions (known as Ashdown's Syndrome), or prompted to recall
conference decisions (Kinnock's Disease).
As an aid to a thoroughly relaxed attitude to social decay and
economic justice, politics can be useful, but only in MODERATE (loc.
cit) doses and under medical supervision.
Politics has not yet been decriminalised in Britain. While there are
many who argue that all users should be locked up, partly for their own
good and partly because it would be a lot of fun, really, LIBERALS (cf
boring leaflets, passim) still claim that small amounts of politics for
personal use never did anyone any harm, man. This school of thought has
gained ground of late, largely because television pundits have very
little else to talk about.
Politics, it should be noted, gives off a distinctive odour, somewhat
reminiscent of sanctimoniousness -- though many have compared it
unfavourably to horse manure. Often the drug is cut (or ''composited')
with other substances. Empty promises and banality are commonly used for
this purpose.
As a result, the potency of politics is reduced drastically, and some
people have demanded their government back after experiencing no effect.
Nevertheless, the practice can be highly dangerous, with gibbering fury
not the least of its consequences.
Heavy politics users are easy to spot, as a rule. First study their
eyes. In a long-term abuser these have a vacant, empty look, as of
someone in a coma (a symptom typical of the onset of the condition known
as Sleeping Majorism). Their speech, similarly, is unmistakable, tending
towards a loud, unvarying drone in which the words ''me'', ''I'', and
''myself'' are the only identifiable sounds.
Be aware, too, that politics has an identifiable culture of its own.
Perhaps because of public disapproval and the drug's dubious legal
status, its users often frequent what is known as a ''cracked House''.
Furtively, behind heavy doors and surrounded by armed guards, these sad
individuals congregate to indulge their vice, ''partying' and ''doing a
few lines'' of a hard-core reading, sometimes until late into the night.
Common in the politics sub-culture is the predilection for ''raves''
(as in ''he's raving''), or party conferences (as in ''let's party, Home
Secretary'') as they are sometimes known. These bacchanalian orgies can
go on for as much as four days at a time, amid frenzied snoring, mass
hallucinations, and appeals to delegates to please come back after
lunch.
Loud speeches with repetitive, hypnotic rhythms are played at these
events while participants clad in sixties-style clothes and
eighties-style attitudes perform bizarre dances around one another.
Their aim, they declare, is to ''get high'' in the opinion polls,
though most, to be fair, just get very boring.
Conferences begin when word is passed that a shipment of new politics
has arrived. Participants then set off in large groups for some
unsuspecting seaside resort, apparently with the sole intention of
creating headlines and falling out. Psychologists define this as
attention-seeking behaviour, or ''infantile'' for short.
Make no mistake, however: politics can be deadly. Behind the glamorous
round of resolutions, votes of thanks, and keynote speeches, lurks real
tragedy. Some victims suffer from the pathetic delusion that they are
actually achieving something. Others spend decades sitting at home
''preparing for government''. A few, if not quickly restrained, will
threaten to ''fight, fight and fight again''.
In the worst cases politics can lead to the conviction that anyone,
anywhere, gives a toss what you think about the monarchy, the economy,
dope or defence.
But the victims of politics are to be pitied, not mocked. Should you
encounter one lurking on a doorstep, a fugitive look in his eyes and a
stash of Brighton Black or Blackpool Red hidden about his person, don't
call the police. Talk to him, offer him the price of a cup of tea, or
telephone the social services on his behalf.
On no account, however, yield to the familiar, wheedling plea for
''just one vote, guv''. There is no telling where it might lead. Would
you want an MP on your conscience? In other words, when it comes to
politics, Just Say No. Be safe, stay healthy: smoke dope instead.
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