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Cikka’s Arguably Failing Attempt To Motivate Herself, A Test Thread


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist

Truth be told, since I am so incredibly used to politicians using these pictures of themselves for official purposes in which they are framed to look, I dunno, decisive, or visionary, or determined, or in charge, or looking up att he sky daring to dream of a better tomorrow, I kind of like that both Blair and Cameron for their autobiographies went with what essentially looks like if they went to have their passport photos taken.

You know, you go there, you get the first photo taken, photographer shows it to you.

"Is it fine?"

And inside, you're like, no, it's not fine, it's fucking horrendous, you look like shit and your composure and everything is wrong, and you wouldn't want people to look at you that way, this wouldn't be something you'd put as your profile on facebook, but at the same time you know, that photographer doesn't have all the time in the world, they've got other customers waiting outside, you don't want to be a pain in the ass or a difficult customer, and by God, you don't want them thinking that you are vain or shallow or narcissistic or anything of the sort, so you just go, "It's fine", and they go, "Are you sure?" just to make sure everything really is fine, but now you cannot say "On second thought, no-..." because then you really are a difficult customer, so now you have to fake a little enthusiasm, so you say "Looks good!"

And then you pay for it, and it costs like 20 quids, and even though you have spent more money than that on nights out in the past, this time you can sort of feel it more poignantly, because you don't actually want the photograph in question, and now you're stuck with it for he next ten years until you get a new one, and it's just-...

It makes them seem more human, that's all I'm saying.
This is an extremely interesting and complex response to my brief and pointless shitpost and I genuinely don't know what to say


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist
So I was thinking:

My CLP idea is fine, but I genuinely don't trust myself enough to sketch out the characters properly and make everything feel it has actual stakes. I do work better with higher concepts, so I have a bigger idea.


Labour Party Dimension Hopping to save Britain

because I'm really out of ideas for CLP


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist
because I'm really out of ideas for CLP
To be more specific, it's not that I'm out of ideas, it's more that I have no idea how to write them, or how to give a connective tissue. Fuck's sake, I'm so awful at planning that I don't even know what structure it would take, whether it would be a novella or a couple short stories.

I've never been good at planning things, I'm full of ideas but I never know where to go with them.


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist
I read up on her and she seemed okay until I hit the Transgender section.

I’m surprised Alison Bechdal didn’t make an appearance.
Bechdel seemed far too normal tbh, and I wanted a lesbian politician who the American government could point at for moderation of the local gay women to pull out of their ass for Reintegration.

Time Enough

"Enthusiastic Cis Male Partner"
Bechdel seemed far too normal tbh
I know, she accepts the rights of trans people and questioned her own possible prejudice in Dykes To Watch Out For, so yeah.
wanted a lesbian politician who the American government could point at for moderation of the local gay women to pull out of their ass for Reintegration.
Makes sense.


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist
And now, a perfectly accurate hypothetical representation of any AH conversation between me and @Turquoise Blue
Me: So, I have this idea for what if (idea)
Tibby: That's cool, but have you considered (significantly more interesting but also more difficult version of idea)
Me: Tibby, I can't do that, it's too difficult
Tibby: eh you'll figure something out
presumably skateboards away idk im on the internet


Sexomarxist, Globalist, Environmentalist
April 10th, 1997.

Ken Livingstone wandered anxiously around his downstairs hall. He had been waiting for this call for a couple of days at that point, going out disappointed. He knew he would be told last. He always knew. At least it was John, but there was no guarantee John would last. It was his heart, you see. Ken knew that everyone surrounding John was just waiting for him to die. That miserable fucker Gordon Brown, that clean-shaven smiling bastard Blair who looked like he was off a Nazi propaganda poster. It was John’s decision in the end. The portfolio would probably be local government. He knew it inside and out, from his GLC days, how to build a communit-

Ring ring.

Ken took a deep breath and answered the call. A familiar, Scottish voice rang through.

“Hello, John.“
“I’ve heard you’ve been waiting. I got you something. London’s without government, and you know more about the place than anyone sitting in parliament. How does some kind of Minister for London sound?“
Ken sat in stunned silence for a moment, sorting through the various possibilities in his head.
”John, the- Brown, and Blair, and the others-“
”I can handle them.” A throaty chuckle came through. “Just, for God’s sake, Ken, don’t say anything about the IRA. We have our work set out for us out there, and we can’t have a government minister spouting about conspiracies.”
Ken, his contrarian nature dulled briefly, exhaled. “Yeah, fine.”
”Alright.” A heavy cough. “Just be careful. I’ll meet you tomorrow, at 9am at Headquarters. We’ll discuss limits on what you can do. Keep in mind, Ken, you cannot use this as a platform to shout about the party.”
Ken nodded, but, realising he was on the phone, said “Yes, of course. I understand.”
“Alright.” John said again. “I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
He put down the phone.

Ken immediately fiddled around with the touch-tone pad, typing in a number as fast as possible.
The phone picked up almost immediately.
”John. Minister for London.”
”I would have preferred an economic portfolio.”
The voice of John Ross, the “former” Trotskyist and friend who Ken dragged around to help with his dirty work sounded slightly bemused.
”Fuck’s sake, John, you get to design the economic functioning of the entire region of Greater London, and you’re not happy unless I get Chancellor,” Ken said.
”I understand you’re overjoyed, but we did simulations, worked for hours.“ Ross said, referring to the computer simulations he and Ken worked on for a healthy socialist society.
”You control London, you control the second most-powerful position in the country.” Ken leaned against the wall, idly. “As Minister, I’m council leader in waiting, or if it doesn’t come to that, Mayor–In-Waiting. Same way Donald Dewar, the slimy old fuck, is going to control the new Scottish Parliament. All I need to do is stay on TV and smile to the cameras, and we‘ll be set.”
”Will you have me to advise in an official capacity?”
“Depends on how far a leash they’re putting me on. They know I know London, but they think I know it too well.”
“You know they’re going to try and clean you up.”
”Smith made that clear. I have no issue being cleaned up, as long as I can fix Thatcher’s sabotage.”
“You won’t be able to say anything about Palestine.”
”John, I’m not going to refuse.”
”I never said I wanted you to. I just want you to know what you’re doing.”
Ken sighed. “Alright, John, I’m going to call the rest of the group. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”
”Alright, goodbye, Ken.”

The line went dead.

I was bored so I wrote something

I don’t even know if it’s any good