Sketch comedy

I sometimes wonder why politicians feel such a strong desire to enter public life when they are so obviously exposing themselves to mockery, if not outright derogatory ridicule. On that note, Sheila Gunn ex-Major press secretary and Times politico set my UK Politics class the task of writing a sketch about party political broadcasts. The 5-minute wonders were rife with horrific haircuts and empty promises. I've posted my effort below.

Has anybody ever voted for a political party as a result of the 5 minute broadcast before Coronation Street? The people that have must be a strange breed – gleaning crucial conviction from the motion of Tony Benn’s chair-swivel and dashing yet earnest look into camera or the sight of Glenda Jackson in her potting shed.
Although the output of party political broadcasts has become distinctly more polished in the fifty-odd years since the first one was aired, the tone is yet to evolve. The message is simple and efficient: we are the best, therefore you must vote for us.
It would be silly to alter such a foolproof formula. The methods of delivery have, however, shown imaginative variety. In 1953 Macmillan was practically flirting with Sir Hartley Shawcross as he described his many positive qualities to eager viewers.
The Liberals were on equally shaky ground when they filmed a variation of Question Time in front of a politically diverse audience with horrendous haircuts. Jimmy Saville’s white bobbed barnet did little to distract viewers from an audience member who later became a prominent Tory.
It is yet to be determined whether the image of Shirley Williams filling shopping baskets with even more baked goods under Labour’s proposed economics improvements delayed the obesity crisis by a good few decades.
Using two wicker baskets Williams showed how much more food you could buy for your money under their proposed changes. If Tessa Jowell did such a thing today Jamie Oliver would be beating a path to her door before she could say “bakewell tart.”
That kind of message looks positively subtle when compared to the Tories anti-Callaghan broadcast in the mid-70s. The repeated boom of “Crisis? What crisis?” over images of strikers and unburied bodies probably gleaned votes in the vain hope the incessant drone would stop.
An early Thatcher video had an equally deafening message: talents are going to waste under Labour. One talent that certainly was not going to waste was that of her hairdresser: Maggie’s bouffant style had never looked so perfectly coiffed. She may have won the election with negative messages but she sent out positive vibes for all those contemplating pussy-bow blouses that season.
Labour’s 1981 video of “Neil Kinnock: the man behind the firebrand” gave discerning viewers a scintillating glimpse into the future. His black and white family photos and the emotional video testimonies from an aged aunt were the first step towards Tony Blair’s open neck collars and gruesome public displays of affection with Cherie.
In 1991 Major saw the genius of the personal touch and a broadcast showed him going back to his roots in Brixton, exchanging pleasantries with a market trader. But this genius was nothing compared to the unsung innovation of the Natural Law Party.
In 1992 they saw the truth that had eluded everybody else. In their short but effective video they shared with the nation their conviction that transcendental meditation and yogic flying were the key to reducing stress in society and making the nation strong.
They even had convincing data to back up their story: a group of yogic fliers had reduced the crime rate in Merseyside by 60 per cent. How? Nobody knows. Shockingly, the party didn’t see the success they were hoping for on polling day.
It just goes to show that people probably don’t vote on the basis of a party political broadcast. If they did, maybe we would be transcendentally meditating our way through rush hour instead of kicking fellow commuters on the sly and using our umbrellas as deadly weapons.