No more homework, ever. Ben & Jerry’s for breakfast every day (and sure, why not Peanut Butter Cup?). You get to decide when you go to bed. Four months of summer holiday – in Hawaii! Any parents who ask “how was school today?” or shout “What a mess! Jonathan, tidy your room!” are grounded for a week (with no Ben & Jerry’s).
That would be something. Especially if your name was Jonathan.
But maybe it could be like that.
If only you ruled the world.
Or would it?
How would you have things, if it was your choice?
Maybe I’m wrong about you. Maybe ice cream, an end to homework and surfing in Hawaii wouldn’t have crossed your mind. Maybe instead you would have decided that no children would go to bed hungry. That all adults would have a job to go to in the mornings. Maybe you would have finally found the answer to peace on earth. And maybe you would have seen to the greatest challenge of them all: making sure that there was less air and more crisps in crisp packets.
There will be a general election in the UK on Thursday 7 May.
On that day, the British people will decide who gets to make the decisions. They’ll vote for the political party and people with whom they most agree. About how things should be. About how long summer holidays should be. About whether there will be Ben & Jerry’s for breakfast (probably not). About whether you should be given even more homework. About whether hungry children should be left to sleep on the floor.
Well, I don’t suppose there are any politicians who want hungry children sleeping on the floor. But it happens every day nonetheless. It happens in the UK, and it happens in the rest of the world. Right now, millions of children are dreaming about one thing only: something to eat. (And even more of them are dreaming about going to school. And having homework to do.)
So, I ask you: do you think we should leave those hungry children to fend for themselves? Or should we try to help them, whether they’re starving in Sussex or Sudan?
I thought so.
But I have to tell you something. Before you lose your rag and rip into all the politicians for not saving these starving children.
Making decisions isn’t always easy.
Sometimes it’s utterly and hopelessly difficult.
The thing is, and this is important: you can’t make everyone happy.
Making decisions is a bit like having three doses of medicine and nine dying patients.
Or, to put a more positive spin on it, six slices of cake and twelve guests at your birthday party.
(“Just cut each slice in half!” I hear you say. Point taken.)
You have to – and don’t fall asleep now, because here comes the political jargon – prioritise. There isn’t always enough for everyone! There isn’t enough money, there isn’t enough medicine, and there isn’t enough Ben & Jerry’s. So what is most important? Who will benefit and who will not? Who will live and who must die?
Like I said, being the boss isn’t easy.
That’s why you should vote for the person you think would make a really good boss.
I’ve voted quite a few times. Sometimes I’ve been really let down by the people I voted for. I’m not saying they promised me a tailwind every time I was out cycling. I’m just saying they popped like soap bubbles when it started raining. They didn’t keep their promises.
On other occasions, I’ve been really impressed. Some of the smartest, most kind-hearted and hard-working people I know are politicians. It’s true. They take the task given to them deathly seriously. They know that you’ve voted for them, and they do their very best not to disappoint you.
“But I’m not allowed to vote for them!” you say. Sadly, you’re right. For some strange reason, adults think that people under the age of 18 would only think of themselves, of long summer holidays and ice cream for breakfast. I say they’re wrong. I think you would have thought more about others than most politicians do.
But still, who wouldn’t want more crisps in a packet?
I have two pieces of advice for you to bear in mind the day you’re finally allowed to vote. Firstly: vote! If you expect politicians to care about hungry children, you have to care enough to vote for the right people. Secondly: don’t vote for politicians with daft hairdos. I’m not kidding. All too often, daft hairdos correlate with daft ideas. Don’t ask me why it is so. It just is.
Or maybe you should look after your own interests (and hair) and take on the job yourself?
Yeah, that’d be good. If you ruled the world.
Just don’t forget those extra crisps.
Lars Joachim Grimstad is a Norwegian author. His first book, The Disappearing Children, about a taxi driver with a daft hairdo who becomes the Prime Minister of Norway, is published by Phoenix Yard Books.
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