Woman: It’s shocking but I revel in the saucy side of politics, says Sarah Cowen-Strong
Confession time. I’ve done something shallow – if not a little dirty. I followed the French presidential election quite attentively – not in the hope of witnessing a milestone in Centrist politics but because I wanted to see if the winner could be a man who’d married his teacher.
I know! What’s the matter with me? I should have been analysing Emmanuel Macron’s stance on austerity and deregulation of the labour market, instead I was itching for the next photograph of the 39-year-old hopeful and his older wife.
Each new shot had me marvelling at their age difference – she is 64 – and oohing and aahing like a fishwife, ready to dish the dirt with anyone who would listen.
For despite Brigitte’s obvious sense of style I was almost willing myself to see a slight stoop or a jowl to contrast with Emmanuel’s chiselled youth. Their presence would have heightened my sense of intrigue, or as some would put it, my downright rudeness.
I agree I am being rather crass but I can’t help reflecting on the sauciness of the whole scenario. There are about the same number of years between Trump and Melania as there are between France’s first couple, but the Macrons seem so much more shocking. And I love it.
Exciting
In a way I wish this couple was ours. Wouldn’t the run-up to the General Election be much more exciting if Theresa’s consort was her 35-year-old fitness trainer, or if Jeremy’s other half was the 81-year-old silver-haired lovely he had met on a jam-making course.
The more general elections I experience, the more tittle-tattle I crave to make it all bearable. I’m sure our candidates made more sense a few years ago – before they all went on courses to help them make more sense.
Now politicians seem to spend so long on grooming their performances that their words are empty and policies muddled, middling and mediocre. Days are filled with soundbites and mind games, as we wait for the blunders that add a bit of excitement to the mix.
Who doesn’t love an indiscretion caught off-microphone, a politician floundering with figures or a campaigning hopeful being struck with a pork pie or splitting their trousers?
And while many of us are gritting our teeth and yearning for it all to stop – because no-one’s got a clue what to do with the country anyway – we’ve actually got it easy this time round.
When the election was called there were barely eight weeks to go before polling day anyway so a limited time for all this mundaneness – without the relief of the Macrons. Strong and stable?
No, give me gossip and sass any day.
