We examine Corbyn’s new campaign video to find all of his secret clues…
It’s been four months since Jeremy Corbyn sold his soul to a crossroads demon in exchange for leadership of the Labour Party, and he puzzlingly still hasn’t been discovered to have accidentally brutally stabbed himself in the stomach while shaving. This can only mean that the Conservatives have forgotten about poor old J-Corbs amongst the understandable orgy of anus cocaine and fox strangulation that normally follows a majority Tory general election result. To remedy this, Much Newer Labour have commissioned a party political broadcast to remind us all what our favourite unshaven underdog has been up to before he unmysteriously convinces himself to commit suicide in a wood with no witnesses at some point later this year.
As I opened my emails this morning, I was confronted by an expression normally reserved for allotment jam burglars. I appreciate that JC has a lot to be pissed off about right now, but the piercing glare of a headteacher who’s just caught you masturbating into your friend’s history homework as a prank might not endear him to the rest of the UK.
But I was always told not to judge a book by its cover, and not judging party political broadcasts by a thumbnail severe enough to make Pol Pot really stop and think about what he’s done is something I think fits broadly into that ethos. Let’s have a gander at the video, shall we?
It’s off to a bold start, with a slightly under-hydrated Corbyn defiantly weeing past the camera.
Wait… sorry, my laptop seems to have flipped over to the beginning of A Very British Coup by mistake! Let’s try that again.
Labour’s broadcast starts promisingly, with several hundred people silently judging the decision made by the newly elected leader of their party to wear the same suit as Mr Bean.
Moving forwards, we’re treated to a summary of Labour’s recent victories that is faintly reminiscent of Brass Eye.
This funky 90s music in the background is giving me flashbacks to the anti-piracy ads at the start of every VHS I watched as a child. Hang on, I think we’re onto something…
Just like that it looks like I’ve come up with Labour’s election campaign for 2020. (In a nick of time, too, as my JSA advisor is a gnat’s whisker away from making me work at Nando’s forever. Short of filling out my application form with scented gel pens I’m not sure how to get out of it.)
Much like a weeping angel, Corbyn appears to only be able to move when the camera is looking away. Thank crumbs the camera flicked back to him when it did or we’d all be stuck in 1967 with our necks snapped.
Corbyn’s video editor has a curious fondness for particularly smoggy pieces of footage. Possibly a result of Tory cuts to fog defences, or just how London looks now that the frack-heavy vapours of the hollow earth beneath commuters’ feet seep wispily out of the steadily crumbling ground. Technically speaking, if Islington North tumbles into a sulphurous, yawning abyss this whole situation goes away for the Conservatives. Alternatively, this is an Instagram-style vignette gone exceedingly wrong.
Here we see footage from an exposé of carers forced to feed the elderly their own blood back to them. #CameronsBritain
More misty, blurred footage, uncannily resembling a Jedi prophecy made hazy by the influence of the Sith.
Some say Corbyn took this footage from the top of an ambulance himself, deftly hanging from the roof like an exasperated lemur. Personally, I can’t believe that roof could support the weighty self-control of a man whose job is to sit in the same room as George Osborne every day and manages to not flick bum-soiled elastic bands at him when he isn’t looking. And also not kill him.
Finally, we settle on a suspiciously butt-plug-looking lamp post just behind Jeremy. A metaphor for the Tories’ intention to right royally roger you, yes you, the British public, with an unreasonably proportioned political contrivance?
Corbyn knows what’s up.
And to finish us off, a dramatic string note at the end.
Wait, that’s much better than the music they ripped from a trailer for The Matrix earlier on. Maybe we should redub this bad boy to really get the blood pumping.
Still, at least it’s better than this Richard-Curtis-esque monstrosity. I’ll leave that to fester in your dreams.
Featured image © Press Association