The Halifax Herald Limited
Loonies and other Sutch candidates
Eccentrics enliven British campaign
By The Associated Press
Howling Lord Hope
London - Among the candidates hoping to capture Britons' votes in Thursday's election are a topless model, an Elvis impersonator and a self-styled superhero who bathes in baked beans.
And people complain this has been a boring campaign.
There are 3,294 candidates from more than 70 parties contesting Britain's 659 parliamentary seats. They span the political spectrum from Marxist to libertarian. Some stand up for remote regions such as Cornwall and the tiny Isle of Wight, while others campaign on single issues, from lowering taxes to legalizing cannabis.
Still others are just plain odd, standard-bearers for Britain's proud tradition of political eccentricity. They sport names like the Jam Wrestling party, the Church of the Militant Elvis and, godfather of them all, the Monster Raving Loony party, which entreats Britons to "vote for insanity - you know it makes sense."
The anarchic Loonies have been pricking the pomposity of politicians since 1964, when founder David (Screaming Lord) Sutch made the first of his 40 bids for election.
Their current policies run from developing a Volkswagen that runs on farmyard effluent - the Dung Beetle - to showering obnoxious mobile-phone users with Silly String and forsaking Europe to become the United States' 51st state.
"We could still have our own laws, rules and regulations - and Hawaii still has a royal family," said the party's leader, Alan (Howling Lord) Hope, optimistically but inaccurately.
Hope, who shares leadership of the party with a cat, took over the Loony helm after Sutch committed suicide in 1999.
The death of Sutch, a leopardskin-clad rock musician who became the country's longest-serving political leader, brought a tribute from Prime Minister Tony Blair, whose spokesman praised Sutch's "unique contribution to British politics."
But some suggested that his needling truly unnerved mainstream politicians. He once arrived for a party conference in a balloon fuelled, he said, by Conservative and Labour party hot air.
When the deposit required of parliamentary candidates was raised from the equivalent of about $325 to $1,000 Cdn in 1985, many felt it was to deter eccentrics like Sutch.
It didn't work.
"The more they slap us, the more we'll come up," said Captain Beany, a "superhero from the planet Beanus" running for the Welsh seat of Aberavon.
Beany, who has legally changed his name from Barry Kirk, is the leader and sole candidate of the New Millennium Bean party. He regularly dons a red cape and yellow tights to raise funds for charity, claims to hold the world record for baked-bean bathing and says he dreams of seeing his picture on bean tins around the world.
"I'm getting a lot of media attention, and the other candidates can't get a look in," he said with satisfaction.
Some fringe candidates seek little more than free publicity. Among the self-promoters is topless model Jordan, 23, whose campaign for a seat in northern England is sponsored by a tabloid newspaper and includes a promise of free plastic surgery for all.
"I know it will take a big swing to win the seat, but there's no bigger swinger than me," said Jordan - real name Katie Price - as she launched her manifesto last month.
But others contain a kernel of serious purpose. The Loonies, who are running 17 candidates - including Eddie Vee, the "Yorkshire Elvis" - advocate cancelling third world debt and offering free prescriptions because "it shouldn't cost anyone to be sick." Hope delights in pointing out that several of the party's promises have become law, including votes for 18-year-olds and all-day pub opening.
"Fifteen years ago, everybody laughed at us when we suggested passports for pets," said Hope, a pub owner and former small-town mayor who sports a Stetson rather than Sutch's trademark top hat.
Last year, the government introduced canine passports to allow dog-owners from rabies-free Britain to travel abroad.
Hope knows he is not going to win a set in Parliament. But he dreams of gaining the five per cent of the vote required to have his deposit refunded.
"All it would take is for one of us to retain our deposit and the other parties would sit up and say, 'Where have we gone wrong?'" said Hope. Wednesday, June 6, 2001 Back The Halifax Herald Limited
Loonies and other Sutch candidates
Eccentrics enliven British campaign
By The Associated Press
London - Among the candidates hoping to capture Britons' votes in Thursday's election are a topless model, an Elvis impersonator and a self-styled superhero who bathes in baked beans.
And people complain this has been a boring campaign.
There are 3,294 candidates from more than 70 parties contesting Britain's 659 parliamentary seats. They span the political spectrum from Marxist to libertarian. Some stand up for remote regions such as Cornwall and the tiny Isle of Wight, while others campaign on single issues, from lowering taxes to legalizing cannabis.
Still others are just plain odd, standard-bearers for Britain's proud tradition of political eccentricity. They sport names like the Jam Wrestling party, the Church of the Militant Elvis and, godfather of them all, the Monster Raving Loony party, which entreats Britons to "vote for insanity - you know it makes sense."
The anarchic Loonies have been pricking the pomposity of politicians since 1964, when founder David (Screaming Lord) Sutch made the first of his 40 bids for election.
Their current policies run from developing a Volkswagen that runs on farmyard effluent - the Dung Beetle - to showering obnoxious mobile-phone users with Silly String and forsaking Europe to become the United States' 51st state.
"We could still have our own laws, rules and regulations - and Hawaii still has a royal family," said the party's leader, Alan (Howling Lord) Hope, optimistically but inaccurately.
Hope, who shares leadership of the party with a cat, took over the Loony helm after Sutch committed suicide in 1999.
The death of Sutch, a leopardskin-clad rock musician who became the country's longest-serving political leader, brought a tribute from Prime Minister Tony Blair, whose spokesman praised Sutch's "unique contribution to British politics."
But some suggested that his needling truly unnerved mainstream politicians. He once arrived for a party conference in a balloon fuelled, he said, by Conservative and Labour party hot air.
When the deposit required of parliamentary candidates was raised from the equivalent of about $325 to $1,000 Cdn in 1985, many felt it was to deter eccentrics like Sutch.
It didn't work.
"The more they slap us, the more we'll come up," said Captain Beany, a "superhero from the planet Beanus" running for the Welsh seat of Aberavon.
Beany, who has legally changed his name from Barry Kirk, is the leader and sole candidate of the New Millennium Bean party. He regularly dons a red cape and yellow tights to raise funds for charity, claims to hold the world record for baked-bean bathing and says he dreams of seeing his picture on bean tins around the world.
"I'm getting a lot of media attention, and the other candidates can't get a look in," he said with satisfaction.
Some fringe candidates seek little more than free publicity. Among the self-promoters is topless model Jordan, 23, whose campaign for a seat in northern England is sponsored by a tabloid newspaper and includes a promise of free plastic surgery for all.
"I know it will take a big swing to win the seat, but there's no bigger swinger than me," said Jordan - real name Katie Price - as she launched her manifesto last month.
But others contain a kernel of serious purpose. The Loonies, who are running 17 candidates - including Eddie Vee, the "Yorkshire Elvis" - advocate cancelling third world debt and offering free prescriptions because "it shouldn't cost anyone to be sick." Hope delights in pointing out that several of the party's promises have become law, including votes for 18-year-olds and all-day pub opening.
"Fifteen years ago, everybody laughed at us when we suggested passports for pets," said Hope, a pub owner and former small-town mayor who sports a Stetson rather than Sutch's trademark top hat.
Last year, the government introduced canine passports to allow dog-owners from rabies-free Britain to travel abroad.
Hope knows he is not going to win a set in Parliament. But he dreams of gaining the five per cent of the vote required to have his deposit refunded.
"All it would take is for one of us to retain our deposit and the other parties would
sit up and say, 'Where have we gone wrong?'" said Hope.
-- Anonymous, June 06, 2001