It would seem that the future is true blue. Across the board, the Conservatives snapped up seat after seat, stealing from Labour and the Lib Dems alike. The entire night reminded me of the scene in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith when the Emperor orders the massacre of the entire Jedi Council. Danny Alexander, Ed Balls, Alistair Carmichael, and so many more were all crushed beneath the might of the Tory Empire. Even Vince Cable, who for twenty years gleefully played hoop-and-stick in the cobbled streets of Twickenham with Ming Campbell and Nick Clegg, failed to hold onto his “safe” seat. Meanwhile, David Cameron’s shiny forehead towers higher than John Prescott’s cholesterol. It was nothing short of a bloodbath on a galactic scale. Not belittling the grandiose of a general election at all, of course. Though, frankly, British democracy has become something of a political joke that goes beyond Private Eye. We are burdened with a defunct voting system corrupted by huge party funding injections; a roomful of obsolete aristocrats, one of whom has been driven so bat-shit crazy that he threatened to eat a hat on national television; and did any of you actually watch the BBC coverage of the night? I’ve never seen pointless speculation on such a grand scale since Kate Middleton’s waters broke. ‘Well, David, I think tonight Conservatives are going to win some seats, but then I think Labour might also win some seats. And let’s not forget about Lib Dems, I suppose they might win some seats too. Honestly, David, I’m of the opinion that there are seats in the House of Commons and they need to be filled. Let’s see that as a graph!’ Somewhat paraphrasing Jeremy Vine. But behind Jeremy’s visuals and animation that would have been more at home in Camberwick Green lays the ugly truth: that once every five years we get a say in a system in which we don’t really have a say at all. Never would I underplay the immense value of the vote: people fought and died so that our voices may be heard. But the vote means nothing if there is so much standing in its way. While the Scottish lion roars at a wilting red rose, while the Ivory Tower grows ever higher, and while the cogs of British politics turn slowly in their graves, we ignore the simple fact that Broken Britain has a Dire Democracy.