Chapter 2 - Desperate to Poll
Adam and Barnaby turned the corner into Wentworth Street, location of the Community Centre with which they were both familiar, but today the local polling station. They'd originally intended to vote two hours earlier, upon returning from work, but had taken one look at the queue outside the polling station and thought better of it. Fortified by fish and chips at the Broadhurst Arms, washed down in Adam's case by diet coke and in Barnaby's by three pints of bitter, they were ready to try again. Neither could disguise their disappointment when they saw that the queue, far from diminishing, was even longer than it had been earlier, stretching almost the full length of suburban Wentworth Street.
"Shit! I don't fucking believe it," Barnaby hissed.
"Neither do I," rejoined Adam. "Still if we're going to vote I think we're going to have to stick it out. They said this was a marginal and there's bound to be more interest at this one than last time. It's the last chance there'll be to get shot of Labour for another five years and we need a change."
"Oh yeah?," Barnaby retorted. "Change - the Lib Dems? In what sense does your wet party represent change? What with their soft policies on Europe and immigration oh, and proportional representation. Mucking about with voting system just to keep themselves in and the Tories out. I don't mean to be nasty but if you ask me they've not got much of a chance."
Adam didn't care for his friend's tone and resolved to stick up for what he believed in.
"Well at least they've got more chance of getting elected than your lot. Your UKIP lot won't get more than a thousand or fifteen hundred votes here and I doubt they'll have a single MP. They've not exactly wiped the floor yet, have they? Not that I'm surprised. All your lot want is to get out of Europe. A one policy party is all they are. Even the Tories realised this country was better off in Europe than out and most people agreed with them when they had the referendum."
"Which was before you or I were born, Adam. We didn't get any say in it, did we? I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for all those fat cats in the European parliament, getting rich whilst tying the rest of us in red tape. Oh, and that's without mentioning that fucking villain's paradise called the European Human Rights Act. What did for me was Brown signing that treaty which Blair promised a referendum on that we never got."
"What, the Lisbon Treaty?"
"Yes, the Lisbon Treaty. No one but the politicians seem to know what's in it and even some of them aren't really sure. The only thing that's sure about it is less power to Westminster and more to Brussels."
"Well, does that matter?"
"Of course it bloody well matters. We might lose control of the army for a kick off. Can you imagine it? German generals in charge of our fucking troops. I don't think so!"
Adam rolled his eyes in disapproval.
An elderly gentleman queueing in front of them turned to Barnaby and uttered a stern rebuke.
"Mind your language, lad!"
"Sorry sir," he replied.
Although they were slowly getting closer to the polling station, the queue remained a long one and Barnaby glanced anxiously at Adam, slipping his hand down to his crotch, as he did so. They'd been friends long enough for Adam to recognise and understand the signs.
"Full bladder, mate?," he ventured.