Photos From The Count #1
So what does a council election count look like? A big municipal building full of trestle tables and people poring over slips of paper in the middle of the night? Pretty much. Though the building in question is the glorious Alexandra Palace, as recently vacated by a Morrissey concert. A haven to self-righteousness indeed!

I had the feeling I shouldn’t really be taking photos in the counting chamber, where local newspaper photographers are not allowed. So I took the flash off and hoped the results wouldn’t be too blurred. Though when they were, it gave these gibbering creatures of politics a Francis Bacon-like many-faced quality. Which I thought was… what’s the word they like? Appropriate.

I Am Bigger Than Labour (in Highgate)
London, Haringey Council: Results for Highgate Ward.
The top three get council seats.
1. HARE, Bob (Lib) – 1534
2. PORTESS, Justin (Lib) – 1523
3. WILLIAMS, Neil (Lib) – 1405
4. FORREST, Peter (Con) – 1163
5. ALLEN, David (Con) – 1119
6. MCNEILL, Douglas (Con) – 1068
7. CRISP, Ralph (Ind) – 467
8. EDWARDS, Dickon (Grn) – 424
9. HEATH, David (Lab) – 414
10. SIMON, Barbara (Lab) – 412
11. KEEP, Charles (Grn) – 349
12. JONES, Peter (Lab) – 347
13. LYNCH, Noel (Grn) – 262
My heartfelt thanks to the 424 people in Highgate who voted for me. Added to the other two Green candidates’ results, the Green vote in the ward was 1035, out of the 10487 total votes cast.
This works out as 10% of the ward vote for the Greens. Compared to 3.5% in 2002. So I’m happy there.
I came 8th after three Lib Dems (who held onto their three Highgate ward seats), then the three Tories, then the independent candidate.
And then there’s me. Above all three Labour candidates. Apparently a Green has never beaten a Labour candidate in Haringey before.
The result for Haringey Council as a whole was a Labour hold, but with Lib Dems gaining 11 of their seats. No seats for anyone else. So Labour wins the council. But in Highgate Ward, Dickon Edwards, former Labour voter turned Green, beats Labour. I feel quietly proud about that.
Meanwhile, across the council border in Camden’s own Highgate Ward, the Greens gain two seats. Adrian Oliver and Maya De Souza: two very nice and very hard-working people I’ve had the privilege of meeting. So the ‘all hands to the target wards’ tactic paid off.
By the way, the Web-hating Haringey Council haven’t yet uploaded these results on their own website yet, as of 5.45 am on Friday morning. So this diary is officially a better source of local election results than Haringey Council’s website. They really must get better councillors.
Election thoughts
Back at home in Highgate for a bit, before leaving for the count at Alexandra Palace. I’m told it’s best to get there by 1 AM.
As candidates go, I hope to be the best turned-out for the turn-out. Not sure if I get to stand on a stage next to a man in a gorilla suit, while his fifteen middle names are read out by the Returning Officer. I think that’s just for General Elections. I intend to take a book and a selection of caffeinated soft drinks.
As far as the London Green Party are concerned, all eyes are really on target wards in Camden, Islington, Hackney and Lewisham. Standing here in Haringey’s Highgate ward, I’m what’s euphemistically known as a ‘paper candidate’. Statistically it’s unlikely I’ll get in even if I had an expensive campaign backing me, so the Party concentrate their resources on seats they have a decent chance of getting. Fair enough. That’s the trouble with a party with anti-capitalist principles: there’s never any bloody money.
But even in no-hoper wards, it’s unfair to deny people the chance to vote Green at all, the people who say “I’d vote Green if there was a candidate to vote for”. Well, now there’s three Green candidates in most London local elections, so fingers crossed it makes a difference.
The trouble is people who do ‘tactical voting’. I hate that phrase: it’s so passé, so … Britpop.
Tactical voting essentially says: Vote for Least Worst out of Who Might Get In. What kind of democratic system is that? It’s a lie. No, you must always vote for who and what you believe in regardless. That’s why elections are formally known as POLLS. They’re polling the people, to find out what the people believe in. What’s the point if the people vote ‘tactically’, recording what they don’t want, and not what they do? A Green vote is never a ‘wasted vote’, because it’s on the record. It’s counted. It counts. It shows what people want, as opposed to what they don’t want. That’s what elections are: the best-documented, most-heeded-to polls.
The only truly ‘wasted vote’ is when someone doesn’t use their vote at all.
In 2006, the buzz phrase is ‘protest voting’. Sadly, the newspapers have taken this to mean voting for the BNP. The last few weeks have seen what was virtually a big BNP publicity campaign by the media, getting worked up about a supposed white working-class electorate feeling the country is being overrun with, well, anyone else, and turning to the Dark Side. Alex Cox, cultish movie director and Green Party supporter, summed it up in a letter to The Guardian:
“Is it really necessary to devote column inches to the possibility that the BNP “might” win 70 council seats? I suspect Guardian readers are not very interested in the BNP. But a bit of coverage of the Green party – which already has in excess of 70 local councillors and stand to win 100 or more seats in the election – might not go amiss.”
I disagree with Mr Cox on the bit about thinking Guardian readers aren’t interested in reading about the BNP. Of course they are: everyone is, really. People would rather see Gary Glitter being interviewed than Peter Tatchell (another Green supporter). Obvious villains are always more entertaining. It’s more fun to be evil than to be good.
But in terms of proportional media coverage, it’s a pertinent point. People forget the Greens are the 4th biggest party, and much bigger than the BNP, Respect, UKIP etc in terms of members, candidates and votes. You’d never think so, not lately. Talking about Nazis is sexy: just ask Channel 5. A bit of blind, deliberate, untapped hatred gets people terribly excited. The Devil has all the best media coverage. Voting Green is a protest vote too – obviously – but where’s the fun in being nice to people? Not exactly juicy columnist fodder.
So, given tactical voting is as relevant and useful as debating Oasis v Blur, why vote Green?
One overwhelming reason for me is that the Greens are the only party to be against the Iraq war from the beginning. Not starting it like Labour, not backing it like the Tories, not doing a handy U-turn to gain votes like the LibDems. The Greens believe it’s wrong to declare war on a country without the UN’s backing, particularly on a country that’s done nothing to the UK.
I feel voting for any of the Big Three effectively means I have blood on my hands. How anyone can watch a recent news bulletin and still vote for anyone BUT Green is beyond me. For me, I genuinely wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t vote Green.
Another reason is the obvious way the Big Three have been blathering on about green (small ‘g’) issues lately, particularly Mr Cameron. “Vote Blue, Go Green” is the Tory party slogan for these elections. How about cutting to the chase and, you know, skipping those two words in the middle?
Labour – what can I say? They need to go. Mr Blair still regards the ballot box as the best way of ‘listening’ to people. So after Iraq, I switched my vote to Green, where it’s staying. I believe killing people for being in the wrong country at the wrong time is wrong. Call me a foppish eccentric… This issue alone is enough to tell Mr B and his lot to go, and to give the anti-war Greens a chance. Simple, really.
LibDem: the biggest hypocrites. As well as the U-turn on Iraq, there’s the quietening down about their only core belief, Proportional Representation. And there’s their record on Green issues. In terms of local paper wastage alone, the LibDems are the least green party around. They’ve been stuffing the letterboxes round here on an almost daily basis with different leaflet after leaflet- it’s just incredible. Recycled paper or not, waste is waste. And they’re the least sincere. The most annoying and condescending leaflet distributed this election is theirs: printed on blue paper in a fake handwriting font and slyly, falsely concocted to look like a personal letter. And as for hypocrisy on sexuality, well, just ask Mark Oaten and Simon Hughes.
So I have to vote Green in order to sleep at nights, and in order not to be physically sick.
I would probably be told off if I campaigned using the slogan “If You Don’t Vote Green, You Have Innocent Blood On Your Hands. ” It’s a bit much. But that IS how I personally feel about it all. And I feel the Greens need to be given a chance, at the very least.
Besides, George Galloway has probably used that slogan already.
So it’s annoying I’m in the minority on this. But things are changing. Off to The Count I go, then.
Outside The Polling Station
Black suit on the hottest night of the year so far. Rosette. Cravat-tied scarf. Pocket square hanky. Lipgloss, mascara, eyeliner, blusher, foundation, powder, Touche Eclat.
I’m ready to vote.

Photo credit: Kind Conservative poll-taker.
Off To The Polls
Off to the Polling Station, then to Alexandra Palace for The Count. I’m taking my camera.


Note unused “Candidate’s Partner” pass.
At the last local elections for this area (2002), the Green Party fielded one candidate. He received 278 votes out of a total 8154 cast. Which works out as 3.5%.
This year there’s three GP candidates, including myself. Plus an independent candidate called Mr Ralph Crisp. So I’ll be pleased if I get a third of 3.5% of the total vote for the ward. Which is 1.17%.
Perhaps this is the closest I’ll get to “playing” Ally Pally.
The Past Is A Commonwealth Country
Leafing through older diary entries, I’m shocked at some of the unkind and occasionally quite extreme things I’ve said in the past; for instance about certain groups or individuals I actually rather admire today. I genuinely don’t recognise the person saying those things as myself. A lot of it just hints at jejune envy at others’ success, which is probably close to the truth. It would be rather Orwellian to revise those old words to fit the person writing this entry today, so I’ll resist the temptation and let them stand. All you can do is hope that people bother to check with you today before presuming you still hold a certain opinion voiced years ago. I voted Labour then, after all. The world changes, and some parts of people change.
I’m not the DE of 1997, that’s for certain. Whether this is for better or for worse is up to others. I’d certainly never dare to say I’m a ‘better person’ now. It’d be like saying David Tennant is the best Doctor Who (though I think he is). Or that ‘Match Point’ is the best Woody Allen film. One man’s development and experimentation is another man’s inconsistency. But the other man is a fool. I feel it’s like inheriting a wardrobe of clothes from an ancestor, and choosing which garments not only fit you, but can represent you. And which bits you chuck out.
Onwards and upwards is the only way to think. After all, my only sibling gets married tomorrow.
New Fosca song online
Fosca have been invited to submit a song for a new compilation organised by Ian Watson’s club, “How Does It Feel To Be Loved”. We’ve offered him a freshly mixed and mastered track called “I’ve Agreed To Something I Shouldn’t Have”, which will probably end up on the next Fosca album.
For the time being, it can be heard online here:
http://www.myspace.com/foscatheband
Lyrics and music by DE, arranged by Fosca, produced by Tom Edwards.
Nice to get something new up there at last, given we’re looking for a suitable new label.
This is an archly anthemic song with too many instruments. I get to play a kind of sliding-chord guitar solo at the end, though I’m not actually sure what notes I’m playing. I just experimented with unfamiliar fingerings. As must we all.
Natalie Haynes
Now I’ve got that moaning about my health out of the way, I can catch up with happier things.
Recently I went to The Albany to see the comedian Natalie Haynes’s new solo show. I should have contacted a friend in time to accompany me, as going to comedy gigs alone really is a strange affair. It’s not like seeing films or concerts or art shows. Stand-up comedy is all about crowds and company. If you go to a comedy gig by yourself, it’s very hard not to feel you should be elsewhere.
The manic Ms Haynes is worth it, though. Thanks to an excellent Radio 4 programme on comedy she presented a year or so ago, I know that her heroes include Dorothy Parker, Jessica Mitford, Fran Leibowitz, Rebecca West, and Cynthia Heimel. So it’s no surprise her style comprises intelligent, acerbic and often bittersweet observational humour, while not caring about being liked in return. Which of course, is an entirely likeable trait.
Her new show is ostensibly about her addiction to US TV detective shows, particularly “Diagnosis Murder”, but the highlights for me are her tangential rants about the joy of childlessness, unabashed middle class pride, campaigns to be nicer to paedophiles, her fear of bats, and her affair with a 17-year-old boy from the school at which she taught. Although her stand-up persona may be a gabbling anti-social compulsive-obsessive, she’s at pains to point out she’s happy with it. “Bear with me, there will be cake”, she announces at one point. And there was: tubs of those Marks & Spencer mini-flapjacks and party cakes handed around after her set.
The only slight on the occasion was her highly naff choice of intro and outro music: hits from The Wonder Stuff circa 1990. I ask her about this at the gig, and she explains it’s due to her Midlands upbringing. Not good enough, frankly. There must be other groups from the Midlands that don’t make one want to explode into a volley of execrations. Felt and Denim spring to mind.
After the gig, I also get to chat to Sue Perkins, another favourite comedian of mine. She buys me a drink. She and Ms Haynes often appear on those radio and TV panel games and pundit shows, discussing the news or reviewing something in the arts. Some people think this trend of comedians being instant TV experts on everything can be unhelpful and annoying. To which I would say: yes, if they’re lazy, obvious and unfunny with it.
Ms Haynes and Ms Perkins are definitely witty exceptions to this blanket complaint. I find they tend to perk up an otherwise dull show. I happened to catch a recent edition of the Channel More4 debate programme “The Last Word”. It really does illustrate Mr Coward’s adage that TV is for being on, not for watching. Except when Ms Haynes is on it.
On this occasion she upstaged the otherwise irredeemably dull preceedings (featuring the entirely unnecessary Mr Dominic Lawson) with a brief explanation on why she regarded the word ‘c***’ as far less offensive than the word ‘vagina’. She explained it was due to their relative Latin stems (the former being ‘triangle-shaped’, the other ‘sword sheath’).
I’m all for etymological debate in modern comedy. Well, it makes a change from telling a crowd how funny it is getting the ‘munchies’ while being ‘high’ in the small hours.
Headaches
How I hate chronicling ailments: it’s so boring. No one wants to know how well or how ill you feel. It’s as boring as relating a dream, explaining the entire plot of a movie the other person didn’t see (for a reason), or telling someone you’re going to be doing a charity fun-run. Even when they ask, “How are you?”, they don’t want a true answer to the question. Just a cursory “fine” to reciprocate the polite interest.
But I have to report my current state. Better that than write nothing.
I’ve had this dull, sporadic headache that’s been coming and going over the past ten days. It’s accompanied with nausea, feverishness and general wooziness, plus a lack of concentration, low energy and an inability to do, well, anything much at all, really. No actual blackouts or throwing up, though. Thing is, I can’t tell how much of this is just me being my normal unfit Dickon Edwards self.
I type the symptoms into the Internet, and of course it tells me I’m dying. Brain tumour is the first worry, so I’ve just had a new eye test (and passed fine), plus have seen my GP and voiced my fears. He thought it wasn’t anything serious. But I still feel rotten. And worrying about what could be making me feel rotten doesn’t help.
Something that could be connected is a nasty bang on the head I received at the Windmill gig ten days ago, lifting my head up too quickly under a low shelf when I was plugging something into the mains. It hurt pretty badly at the time, but I was drinking all night and didn’t really notice any pain for the rest of the evening. I was pretty anaesthetized.
From the day after, though, I got these new kind of dull and throbbing headaches, and they don’t seem to be going away. They feel more like the kind of pain you get after banging your head, so the GP thinks it’s a combination of delayed concussion, coupled with post-viral goings-on from the flu that I’ve had off and on for the last month. He took a look in my eyes with a pen torch, asked me to do a few hand-to-eye co-ordination tests, and told me he thought it was nothing to worry about: the headaches would go soon. He prescribed paracetemol till then.
I do hope he’s right. I’m sitting here feeling headachey and sick. And sick with worry over feeling sick. It’s driving me mad. Put down the voodoo doll, please, Unkind Reader.
How To Menstruate In Yorkshire
Rachel Stevenson (who is of Doncaster stock) alerts me to a staff document posted on the website for Doncaster West NHS. It’s a much-requested glossary of South Yorkshire slang compiled from patient consultations, aimed at assisting doctors from other countries. Or indeed, other counties.
Terms used by patients for menstruation:
I’ve got a visitor
Got me friend
Had a show
On my Honda
Barnsley’s at home
Rotherham are at home
One phrase that genuinely made me fall off my chair today:
I’ve got fishdocks: I have an odiferous vaginal discharge
And something directly from Alan Bennett country:
My husband/partner is good to me: My husband/partner doesn’t expect sex