It's good to be an alien

Yes, that's right: I'm an alien. Not only that, I am a registered alien. Whether that makes much of a difference-who knows? For all the years I have lived here-and I lived here longer than I lived in my own country-I have been an alien. I worked, paid taxes, got sick, got well, got married (must have been nuts), got divorced (must have wised up), and the only thing I have never been able to do-was vote. Until now. Meh.

I have done all the hospital stuff since last time I posted: I've been poked, prodded, blood letted, had my scan so I've also been irradiated up the wazoo-and the general pronouncement (by everyone except the oncologist) is that I am in really good shape-for my age. It's the "for your age" that I could happily do without. For my age-you would think I was a car. But never mind, I am doing really well-for my age. God isn't even my age. Well, that does really irk me. But it certainly beats the alternative.

In the middle of all this palaver, it was my birthday. Did I celebrate? Is the Pope Catholic? My friends called me from the US, I received birthday cards and emails (love those calls, emails, cards-what a lift that gave me), and I celebrated with friends here. And celebrated. And celebrated. Not everyone could make it on Monday, so I celebrated again on Wednesday. My head still hurts. But, when I consider that last year I wasn't sure if I would even live to my birthday, it's a year down the line-and I am beginning to see what gratitude really is. Tomorrow I could walk out of the house and get struck by lightning. So maybe it's a good idea to really start living. I thought about that last year-but some people take a long time before they get it.

Now-in the middle of the muddle, I received a letter from the government. When I see a brown window envelope, I know it's from the government. So-I wondered what they wanted. And what they wanted was for me to vote. I laughed so hard I got a cramp in my side and nearly fell off the chair (nothing new there; I fall over all the time).

A few weeks ago I received a letter asking me to register to vote. Of course, I did what I always do with this drivel: I threw it away. Now, last week, I received another letter, telling me that I am registered to vote and if I fail to vote (in the General Election in the spring), I could be jailed and fined a thousand pounds. Eeek. This current government isn't worth a thousand pounds.

So, when I stopped laughing, I rang the number on the letter-a premium number, of course-these guys will stick you with any kind of bill if they can get away with it. So I explained that I am an alien (didn't that go over really well!!). I said I hold an American passport, and the information in my AMERICAN passport enables me to stay and live here forever. Believe me when I say it feels like forever. In fact, some days it feels like a life sentence.

The woman requested my national insurance number-like our social security number-and then after a few moments she got back on the phone and told me that I can, indeed, vote in both countries (I'm never going to give up the right to vote for President, no matter how mediocre and how big a jerk he is), and I am, therefore, expected to do my civic duty and vote for the next Prime Minister. I said-you've got to be joking, am I going to vote for one of the Chuckle Brothers, or worse, one of the Three Stooges? She laughed-and said, yes, everyone needs to vote. So I took her name and we thanked each other, and I got off the phone and thought-no way in Hell and I going to cast my vote for any of these idiots. I already voted for the chief idiot in America, I won't repeat the process. Honestly-as an aside-can you imagine Sarah Palin in the White House? Oh, please-the moron would probably hit the button and start World War III because she thought it was the television remote.

So there you are: I am an alien with voting rights. Go figure. I wonder if there is a place where I can write in my candidate...I'd write in Mickey Mouse. Cameron is such a wanker, a rhesus monkey could do his job better than he can. A rhesus monkey would probably save the NHS. And monkeys are cute. You certainly can't say that about politicians, can you?

Just thinking about voting makes me smile. Now I need to figure out a way to get out of it.