Not being able to vote since my arrival in Great Britain 10 years ago has always been a bit of a burr in my metaphorical gusset. Raised in the “Rock the Vote” generation in the US, not being able to have a say in who my elected officials are has made me uncomfortable despite my extreme apathy toward British politics where every party seems to have the same policies while at the same time accusing the ruling party of hypocrisy/ criminal activity/ sexual deviance/ etc. In any system where you are paying a very large amount of seemingly never-ending taxes, it’s annoying not to be able to pick who’s taxing you. (Up until the last year or so, citizenship was not even an option as the US frowns upon it’s citizens hitching their wagons to the fortunes of Johnny Foreigner even if we DO have a “special relationship”.)

A few years ago, I mentioned our day out at Westminster Palace care of our MP, Mr. John Bercow, who has since recently been elected as Speaker of the House of Commons. In other words, he’s the guy in the black robe in the middle of the room who a) recognizes MP’s during sessions of Parliament when they want to speak and b) tells them to knock it off when the proceedings reach a “your momma” state of debate.

As it happens, we’ve met The Right Honourable Speaker on three separate occasions. I was not present for the first instance when he was first campaigning, showed up at the Rock Star’s family home and immediately needed to use the toilet. For like, half an hour. After his marathon comfort break, he spent a fair amount of time connecting with the Rock Star’s family, asking about their business, governmental concerns, etc. So in depth did his interest appear to be that it lead my mother in law to wonder aloud, “He’s a slick bugger. I wonder what he’s up to?”

The second meeting was during a sponsored tour of Westminster Palace several years later, when, to our surprise, he remembered exactly who The Rock Star’s family was, where they lived and what they did. (Possibly due to latent gratitude from being allowed to spend half an hour in their crapper.) His star had risen a bit in Parliament by then and you’d occasionally see his name crop up in newspapers having to do with various votes and committees. Again, my mother in law mused that he was a politician who probably had lofty aspirations and was curious to know what he was working towards.

Before visiting a session of the Commons a few years after THAT, I decided to have a quick look at what John Bercow, MP was really all about and after a bit of internet searching, found the Parliamentary voting records. Although a member of the Tory Party, Bercow almost consistently voted with the Labour government throughout his stint as Buckinghamshire’s Member of Parliament. (This is why you need to check up on your elected officials, folks! Just because you vote in a member of one party or another, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to get the policies that you’d expect. While, as a liberal, /I/ certainly have no trouble with his voting record, I can imagine that a staunch Tory supporter might get their conservative hackles up a bit) We enjoyed a rather nice afternoon tea with him in the beautiful Pugin Tearoom at Westminister Palace afterwards and were both stuck at his personability as well as his uncanny ability to answer a question in a way that 5 minutes later, you suddenly went, “Holy hell. He didn’t answer my question at all. How did I MISS that?” In other words, the perfect politician. So, when he was finally elected speaker, it didn’t come as a huge surprise. My mother in law proved to be right. He WAS working towards something.

Just the other day, the Rock Star (as the only voter in the house) received a letter that informed us that due to some strange Parlimentary jiggery pokery, because our MP is in fact the Speaker and at General Elections, the Speaker’s seat remains unchallenged, voters of Buckinghamshire would not be given a vote. In an American analogy, this would be like residents of the State of California being denied the opportunity to vote in a Presidential election due to the fact that Nancy Pelosi is the Speaker of Senate. (Of course, Buckinghamshire is far less populated, less prone to earthquakes and has a FAR lower paparazzi to resident ratio.)

Although the politics of Great Britain don’t really warrant much attention on the other side of the pond, I think perhaps a little bit of the MP Expense scandal might have made the papers. (i.e. Members of Parliament using an astonishing amount of taxpayer cash for important and critical things like REALLY NICE NEW WALLPAPER for their offices.) Unfortunately, Mr. Bercow was not immune to this and in a “gosh, isn’t my face red!” kind of moment, was revealed to have spent £45,000 pounds of other people’s money on refurbishing his London grace-and-favor flat. Not to mention £13,000 for 3 months “entertainment” expenses. (Apparently, politicians have a different definition of “fun” than the res of us. Me, I would be happy with a bargain bucket from KFC, but I suppose if you’re inviting London nobs to tea, something a little more upmarket is required.) Needless to say this brand of political fuckery didn’t sit particularly well with his constituency here in Buckinghamshire and they would rather relish the chance to oust him, but due to a fun procedural loophole, not only do voters not get to do THAT, but they are also robbed of the chance to have a say in selection of this country’s next government.

Lucky for me that I’m taxed without representation anyway.