[2049] in Humor
HUMOR: Monster Raving Loony Party
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (abennett@MIT.EDU)
Wed Apr 30 12:34:12 1997
From: <abennett@MIT.EDU>
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Date: Wed, 30 Apr 1997 12:23:24 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 Apr 1997 12:19:47 EDT
From: Erik Nygren <nygren@MIT.EDU>
From: terry@cs.cmu.edu
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Tuesday, April 29, 1997 Page A8 1997 San Francisco Chronicle
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In Britain, a Vote for the Fringe Means Suntans and Freedom to Party
Kenneth J. Garcia, Chronicle Political Writer
London
The British have always been a bit loony, particularly when
it comes to their elections.
How else to explain the Monster Raving Loony Party, a
mainstay of British campaigns for more than 30 years, and
one of a number of fringe parties that exist to propose
outrageous platforms and policies and to poke fun at the
English obsession with pomp.
For years, the Loonies have been headed by Screaming Lord
Sutch, a mainstay of the United Kingdom's political
landscape. It was Sutch who established this year's party
platform, which is centered on the promise to tow Britain
500 miles south into the Mediterranean to improve the
country's climate.
``Vote for insanity, you know it makes sense,'' is a key
party motto, and this year the 50 candidates running under
its banner are espousing such trendsetting themes as turning
abandoned coal mines into bungee-jumping centers and
requiring all dogs to eat phosphorescent food to help
pedestrians spot their neon piles.
For the first time in decades, Sutch is not running this
year because he is caring for his ailing mother, but
numerous other political adventurers have stepped forward to
fill the void.
A record number of fringe candidates are vying for office
during this general election -- that is, if vying means
running on a platform calling for the abolition of January
and February to shorten the winter.
One of Sutch's fellow Loonies, Simon Wood, is running for
his Derby seat on a promise to replace the city's giant ram
sculpture with a six-meter-high model of Pamela Lee
Anderson. He is also backing an all-day pub opening
ordinance -- a surefire winner with even the most serious
mainstream party loyalists.
In England, there are parties as colorful as the sky is
gray. William Hutchins is seeking a seat in Cornwall
representing the Blackhaired Medium Build Caucasian Party.
There are candidates running for the Independently Beautiful
Party as well as the Mongolian Barbecue Great Place to Party
Party.
For voters who like their martinis shaken, not stirred,
there is the Miss Moneypenny's Glamorous One Party, which is
sponsoring a six-foot-tall transvestite (a.k.a. Bernel
Penhaul) who likes to dress in purple robes and lilac
platform shoes. Another candidate is running for a seat on
the Happiness Stan's Freedom to Party Party (yes, Stan is
the man), and the Rainbow Dreamers are seeking a seat on a
platform of year-round suntans and decimal clocks.
While it all may seem a bit wacky, members of Parliament
actually tightened the laws on running for Parliament about
12 years ago to weed out the truly crazed and potentially
dangerous.
Parliamentary hopefuls now must put up a deposit of 1,110
pounds (about $1,800) and gather 10 signatures to get on the
ballot. People imprisoned for more than a year, holders of
some public offices (such as judges) and people with a
severe mental illness are ineligible to run -- though it is
unclear exactly how the latter is determined.
One candidate, Howard Marks, is running this term on an
independent platform to legalize marijuana -- none too
shocking unless you realize that Marks has a record as a
convicted drug smuggler.
That seems downright serious when you consider that the
nation's Natural Law Party is promising to wipe out
Britain's troubles by turning its soldiers into a holistic
band of meditating yogis. Such a cosmic force would reduce
the country's ``collective stress'' by bringing about peace,
harmony -- and a sharp reduction in taxes.
As far as Mr./Miss Moneypenny is concerned, anything that
reduces the amount of self-imposed seriousness in the
campaign is worth pursuing.
``My job is to parody this ridiculous situation,'' the
lushly robed Moneypenny said. ``When the other politicians
start to make sense, I will fade away.''
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Tuesday, April 29, 1997 Page A8 1997 San Francisco Chronicle
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