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This article was written on 09 Jul 2016, and is filled under Uncategorised.

Andrea Leadsom: a tribute in shit

Holy Trinity Brompton is the capital city, sorry, church, of the Alpha Course. It attracts people who go on to be a certain type of Christian. They’re middle class, have good jobs and now want the final feeling of being all special and sparkly. So they roll along to Alpha at HTB as it’s called, get a quick spiritual buff and polish and are sent out into the world to be even more unbearably smug than they were before. Someone also seems to remove their eyes and replace them with ones that make them look like a Nazi who has just seen Hitler, but that’s by the by.

Andrea Leadsom reminds me of this type of Christian. It’s like someone has described to an alien what normal people do and the alien has set out to do it to the exclusion of everything else. She’s squeezed out a couple of kids, done Something In The City and now lives a life of hyper-normality, cooking Sunday roasts and passively having children, which she seems to regard as the pinnacle of human achievement. Oh, and she’s a HTB-type Christian, naturally. But there are Signs.

Leadsom’s speeches are sentences that have been stapled together. Even the sentences consist of soundbites that have been stapled together and are designed to rub the aching clitoris of Tory middle England in a bored and predictable way, like someone who is half asleep but knows he (they’re not a lesbian – we’re not at home to beastliness) probably ought to do this anyway because his wife (they’re married – we’re not at home to beastliness) cleaned his lawnmower with a small toothbrush. So we get markets. We get family. We get family markets. We get optimism, we get markets again and we get sovereign nation. Market family optimism sovereign nation. Perfect.

And of course, we get God. Talk to anyone who has been to HTB and who loves it with all the dedication of a Jack Russell who is humping your leg, and you come away thinking that God is actually some kind of vicar in his fifties. He wears jeans because, hey, he’s down with the kids and listens to some songs recorded by popular beat combos in the hit parade, and makes noises about tolerance, but hates the gays, disguised as ‘feeling sorry’ for them, and wants everyone to be just like him.

This comes across in every interview with Leadsom which I’ve read. The pious sense of being detached from the grubby business of being human, as though Leadsom has never had a massive shit in her life but instead gently leaves her fragrant movements, which fell out of her ear, behind a magic bush for the pixies to take. And of course she is detached from the world in another sense. Not for her the struggle to make ends meet or bringing up a child by herself. She’s a Tory who worked in the City. Everyone else in her world is the strange one. She’s normal.

Except, of course, she isn’t. She’s like a character played by Maureen Lipman on crack. Leadsom’s world is tiny and mainly consists of people like Leadsom and others who are no threat to people like Leadsom. The others, the great mass of other people, are just abstract. Useless eaters, to borrow a phrase from the Nazis. And that’s the kind of faith she has. Like the Royal Family going through the grim pantomime of going to church dressed like people who have been told what to wear, her faith isn’t dirty or grubby or desperate. In her Bible, Jesus is probably a stockbroker, rather than an itinerant former carpenter who travelled around Palestine preaching revolution.

If Leadsom has a dark, parallel life in which she’s fisted by strangers in a car on a B-road, or takes LSD and talks to a giant vibrating rabbit called Goombah who has given her the keys to the universe, or takes speedballs at the weekend until her eyes roll back into her head and she drools and pumps liquid crap into her pants, then all this is moot. She’s clearly doing this as an elaborate joke on middle England and she has my respect. But she probably isn’t. She’s genuinely doing this because she thinks what the country really needs is a Christian with absolutely bugger all life experience who stretched the truth on her CV and talks like a platitudinous Magic 8-Ball.

She stands a fairly good chance of being elected, which means that a country which is taking a brief break from going mad will go mad all over again and end up drifting on its back downstream with a stunned expression, staring off to a distant horizon wondering what has happened while the rest of the country has to be sold off to Honda or BMW. By odd coincidence, this is the expression that Leadsom has much of the time, while she’s not simpering or smirking like someone with two love eggs up her front bottom. Heaven help us all.

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