Politics went pop in 2015. UKIP’s manifesto turned the UK General Election into a veritable pantomime, casting pint-swilling Nigel Farage as the charismatically racist villain. We nearly lost Scotland, and were introduced to the SNP’s Mhairi Black, the youngest MP elected to the House of Commons since the 1800s. Leftists cheered on their dark horse, Ed Miliband, who was arguably bumped from news headlines by Kim Kardashian’s bare arse on the cover of Paper magazine. David Cameron emerged victorious, and we all went back to our lives, quietly supporting foodbanks as the Tories cut benefits in favour of bombing Syria with our money.
Many of us are quite stupid. Our attention spans have been reduced by the immediate gratification provided by smartphones and social media. For this reason, we need big, obvious, shiny archetypes as political figures, or else how can we possibly be expected to give a sh*t? Jeremy Corbyn confuses the public because he looks like a librarian and enjoys baking bread. Pfft, that’s no fun. We want scandals! Headlines! Children being left behind in pubs!
That was all well and cute until Donald Trump came along. What started as a joke has grown into a full-blown apocalyptic threat. The American celebrity businessman has a CV that’s basically identical to Paris Hilton’s but for some reason, he’s being taken seriously as the leading Republican candidate in the US Presidential race. He grabs a mouth-breathing audience with soundbites like, “She does have a very nice figure… If Ivanka weren’t my daughter, I’d perhaps be dating her.” Recently, Mr Trump called for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States. Hang on a minute, is Donald Trump actually ISIS? Because he’s got ‘Death to the West’ written all over him. He’s done more for their recruitment efforts than an eternity of virgins ever could.
Our own hatespeech-monger, Katie Hopkins wrote a column for Daily Mail Online defending Mr Trump’s statements, but I think she was being cleverly subversive. She said, “Look guys, I’ll stand with Trump on this one and everyone will see that he must be a complete prick like me.” But it didn’t work. We’ve got to fight fire with fire. And I’m not talking bombs: we need to get inside the simple, frightened minds of the rednecks of this world with a celebrity; someone they’ll recognise off the telly; someone to rival Trump in terms of star-status and inflammatory interviews.
I am behind Kanye West for American President 100 per cent. He’s our only shot. Married to the most powerful woman in mainstream media, he makes beautiful children and comes with his own built-in Messiah complex. He goes jogging in Lanvin, won’t listen to rap in his own apartment because it’s “too nice”, says he’s too busy writing history to read it, he strives for dopeness, and describes his greatest pain in life being that he will never be able to see himself perform live.
That’s my candidate. Kanye West. My person of the year. And hopefully, the one to deliver us from evil.