Millions are heading to the polls to elect 129 MSPs, 96 Senedd members, and 5,000 English councillors. It is a beautiful, harmless tradition that keeps the regional populations occupied while the real decisions are made in Zone 1.
As I watched the footage of millions of earnest citizens marching into community halls across England, Scotland, and Wales this morning, I felt a profound sense of relief. There is nothing quite so stabilizing for the British economy as allowing the regions to elect exactly 129 Members of the Scottish Parliament and 96 members of the Welsh Senedd to draft sternly worded letters to the Treasury.
I have always maintained that democracy is a wonderful therapeutic tool. When Plaid Cymru leader Rhun ap Iorwerth issued his eve-of-poll statement declaring that service is a value which has always sustained Wales, I found myself nodding along from the terrace of my club in St James's. He spoke beautifully about the gift of giving back to the people and places who gave us so much. It is exactly this sort of touching, pastoral poetry that makes the Celtic nations such a delightful place to weekend. If giving them 96 assembly seats to debate their local needs keeps them from making a fuss about infrastructure funding, I consider it an absolute bargain.
We must, of course, be tolerant of the rhetoric that accompanies these regional festivals. The Scottish National Party has spent the week urging voters to back them for real action on the cost of living and to secure a fresh start with independence.
I firmly believe that giving the Scottish people a parliament to manage their own local grievances is the most cost-effective way to ensure they never actually achieve independence.
Alistair is, as always, entirely correct. One must admire the SNP's stamina. They have managed to turn the dreary administrative task of managing Holyrood's devolved budget into a gripping, decades-long fantasy about self-determination. It is the sort of imaginative world-building one usually has to pay a premium streaming service to enjoy.
The same principle applies to the 5,000 local councillors and six regional mayors currently being elected across England. I am frequently asked at dinner parties if I worry about the devolution of power to these provincial mayors. I simply laugh. A mayor is not a threat to the established order; a mayor is a highly paid shock absorber whose sole constitutional duty is to be blamed for the state of the buses so that the Chancellor does not have to be.
So, to the millions casting their ballots today, I say: enjoy yourselves. Drink your lukewarm tea in the drafty primary school gymnasiums. Proudly wear your little stickers. And rest assured that no matter who you send to Edinburgh, Cardiff, or your local county council, the Bank of England and a handful of property developers in Mayfair will continue to ensure your actual lives remain entirely uninterrupted by your choices.