The three most controversial things in life are politics, religion and football.

Fortunately, I don’t give a damn about football. Rather than getting shot from both sides, I’m able to avoid tribal warfare in that respect.

When it comes to religion, I’m an Existentialist (Or rather Absurdist, if you want to get into it), which is a fancy intellectual way of saying that I’m a certain type of Atheist. As for Politics, it’s fairly obvious where I stand on that matter, as a member of the Labour Party and the Fabian Society.

The difference is that when I talk to friends of a different religious persuasion we find it a lot easier to “agree to disagree”. I walk away thinking they were horribly misguided as a child but are nonetheless trying to do the right thing, and they think I’m going to a land of fire and goblins. Two sides to every coin.

Politics is not so easy, perhaps because the playing field is level. I have tried the argument “Gordon moves in mysterious ways” but it doesn’t always work.

I have a lot of Labour friends and undecided-but-interested friends, I even have a few Tory pals (admittedly I can’t think of any specifically) and a couple of Lib Dems too.

Although I’ve made a lot of friends through politics, I’ve also lost a few. Mostly the rich-kids from high school who complained about Daddy having to sell her favourite pony due to the 50p tax rate (true story) but one or two have really disappointed me.

I’ll say now that he used to read this blog; whether he still does I don’t know. I don’t want to know, and I hope he doesn’t leave a comment on this post. If he does, I will read it, but it will never see outside of the spam folder.

Start playing your violin, this could get heavy. This story is personal but I don’t want it to just be a sob story; I hope it can serve as a cautionary tale about how not to do Politics. It’s an example of how people can become so obsessed with what divides instead of what unites to such a self-destructive extent.

I was best friends with a gent in high school, right from the age of 10 through to 18 we were practically a double act. Not only were we roommates right the way through, but we even in the same classes together. French and Spanish A-levels were just him, me and the teacher.

I recall one morning our teacher saying “I hope I don’t hear in a few years that you two fall out or secretly hated each other all this time!”

How prophetic he turned out to be.

At the end of A-levels my friend and I went our separate ways, I headed down south to Bath and he stayed north. I wasn’t involved in the Labour Party or politics in general until then; interested, but not committed.

Various Tories will know I’m a pretty good sport about politics, in that I have a sense of humour and am not completely defined by the media portrayal of my party.

Anyway, over the course of a year, I conversed with this friend over MSN every now and then. I’ve never had a more surreal experience than watching my best friend turn into a closet-BNP supporter. He actually joined UKIP but it felt a lot more sinister than that. It felt a lot like Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith where Obi-Wan Kenobi is shouting to Anakin about how he murdered little children, you know the scene.

Our conversations became more and more dominated by our ever increasing political divide. As time wore on I became more and more disappointed, ashamed and convinced he was a lost cause.

Imagine your best childhood friend told you this:

You deserve to drown in your own blood for supporting Labour.

After the abuse continued, I decided that there was nothing that could be salvaged from our friendship except perhaps this blog post and a collection of wistful anecdotes. The good man who was my best friend ceased to exist. So I told him after he started yet another ill-informed rant:

You’re boring me. In fact, you bore me every night. I try and listen, I try and humour you, I try and appreciate your views, sometimes I even try to find ONE constructive idea; but it’s empty. It’s hollow and empty and I’m fed up with it. I’ve been patient for so long, but it’s run out now.

So I’m going to ask you, never talk to me again about your views on Labour, or just never talk to me again.

We haven’t spoken since.


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