A highlight of last weekend was the resurgence of the hashtag #DogsAtPollingStations, as people across the Republic of Ireland posted pictures on Twitter of their dogs accompanying them as they voted in the presidential election. It’s a sight that never gets old, and – while there’s no evidence to suggest a relationship between voter turnout and the presence of pups at polling stations – it did make me consider what else we could do to jazz up the democratic experience. In theory, voting in the UK is an exciting opportunity to shape the society around you, and make your voice heard. In reality it’s a midweek pain in the arse, figuring out how you’re going to find a place to park, in peak-hour traffic, near a local primary school filled with creepy finger paintings from children you don’t own.
I’ve voted a few times since I moved to the UK from Australia; the policy stakes were high, the arguments were passionate, the referendum was, as we all know, a bit spicy. Like most foreigners, I originally thought Brexit was a Eurovision sequel that was having a surprisingly powerful effect on the pound. Turns out it goes on for longer than Eurovision. I didn’t think that was possible.
What struck me the most is that my usual pre-vote, civic hard-on quickly dissipated when I was confronted with the humourless process of voting here. The lack of spirit and irreverence at the polling stations surprises me. For a country that celebrates comedy, satire and insubordination, British voting feels a bit, well, dry: turn up quietly, tell a nice person your postcode, mark some paper with a pencil and shuffle out silently, trying to leave the impression you were never there. Where’s the community engagement?
I don’t want to get all “Do you know what happens in Australia?”, but do you know what happens in Australia? One-third of all polling stations there have something called a sausage sizzle out the front – rain, hail or shine. “Sausage sizzle” is Australian for “Cook sausages and onions on a barbecue, whack one inside a piece of cheap, white bread, fold it into a triangle, cover in sauce and sell for two bucks.” It’s an ancient art that we have merged with our democratic rights.
At the 2012 Australian general election, the hashtag #DemocracySausage trended for so long that at the next one, Twitter changed its voting emoji from a ballot box to a sausage. Then the phrase was made (Australia’s) 2016 word of the year – a sad indictment of our education system, as we can all see that it is, indeed, two words. That’s the kind of chutzpah I’m craving over here. It creates a sense that you’re a part of something. It’s also practical: never vote on an empty stomach. Oh, and they hold election days on a Saturday. You know, so people can actually get there to vote.
We, as citizens, should be taking inspiration from some of our great, British political candidates. Who could forget Lord Buckethead, whose policies included sending Katie Hopkins to the phantom zone? Or a man running for election dressed as Elmo? Both were vying in 2017 for the seat of Maidenhead – Theresa May’s constituency, for those playing at home. Great work. Watching the incumbent PM try to keep a straight face (which is better than watching her try to smile, to be fair) as a man dressed like Batman with his head stuck in a funnel, and a giant, red breach of Sesame Street copyright, stood unapologetically on the world stage in the name of UK democracy, was a moment that made me proud to live in Great Britain.
It’s time we sexed up this dusty wasteland of conformity before our next election. We need to dig deep into that Boaty McBoatface spirit and find what’s going to unite us as a people the next time we take to the polls. We need less “strong and stable leadership” and more “Gritney Spears”. All suggestions welcome ... unless it’s telling me to go back to where I came from. And to that I say: my mum’s English. Soz (or rather #SozzageSizzle).
Felicity Ward is touring the UK with her Edinburgh Comedy award-nominated show, Busting a Nut.
