Columnist Peter Laurie says he’s pulling out. I hope it isn’t frustration. We columnists get too much of that.
I mean, I explained the similarity between elections and erections – fully expecting that University of the West Indies (UWI) political analysts, erstwhile and extant, would’ve had a feel day, employing the Cave Hill student bodies in a hands-on study of the latter to predict how the former would behave.
But no. They turned instead to fortune-tellers, soothsayers and polls, resulting in Owen and Froon coming home together almost in a dead heat. A climax apparently favoured by Laurie and readers of romance thrillers, but avoided by more experienced practitioners. Froon beat him to it by a short head, a most disappointing affair to all concerned.
Instead, a study of erections (and by extension, elections) would have shown their inherent tendency to lose interest, run out of steam and let you down at the last minute. An outcome which reliance on polls could not predict.
Before we get to polls, however, a brief comment. We have caved in on virtually every other issue. Why not legalize vote buying? After all, big businessmen generously fund political parties with a gentle reminder to “remember me when thou comest into thine kingdom”. The small man’s little berry may be all he will get out of the elections. Why should his $200 be termed a bribe for which he can be prosecuted while the politician’s far larger sum is a perfectly legal “campaign donation”?
Okay, polls. A young lady phoned recently to ask if I had ever been polled by Peter Wickham or any other CADRES members. Did I know of anyone whom Peter had polled? She found it strange that not one of her acquaintances had ever admitted to such an experience.
Right there, lady, you’ve hit on an inherent problem with polls. The pollster, or anyone doing research as I have for many years, takes a piece and from that gauges how the whole will behave. In most cases, a piece will give a good indication of the whole. But not always. Sometimes, your random sample just wasn’t random enough.
Other factors come into play. Back when we did surveys for the Ministry of Agriculture, I soon got tired of trying to coax opinions out of old planters who probably hadn’t had an opinion on anything since the last World War. My method, with stacks of forms still to be completed, was to hustle them gently in any given direction. Wickham’s pollsters would no doubt be far more professional.
A pollster, however, should rely on backup to confirm his results. Rev. OG Butler had a vision where an angel appeared unto him with the face of Owen. He assumed the Bees would win. I got stung by a bee, a very potent omen, and came to the same conclusion.
But when I went to anagrams, doubts arose. The letters in “Freundel Stuart” can be rearranged to spell “Flatus returned” which sounded ominous. While “Owen Arthur” gives you “Whoa return”, not auguring well for my friend.
In the end, Wickham’s poll prevailed. No one doubted a man who could boast that he had never been wrong.
And I am convinced, my friends, that that poll with its flawed predictions determined the outcome of the election. I, like probably many others, was relaxing in bed around 4 p.m.on voting day. I resolved not to vote, figuring the Bees to win and bring relief to the struggling middle class who are paying to keep many unproductive public sector workers employed.
Then it hit me. Wickham was predicting not only a win, but a two thirds majority for the Bees. Would this not tempt them into a too radical agenda? I rushed out to vote for a strong Dems Opposition.
Oh well, best wishes to the very capable Mia Mottley. I can’t forget, however, that she was reportedly the lawyer responsible for Bajan men no longer getting the cat. A ruling which many wives welcomed with literal glee and never ever after tolerated in the breach.
Finally, young Peter Wickham shouldn’t be made to pay because his favourite tool, the poll, let him down on this occasion. He will rise and come again a better man. Youth will be served, as they say. One way or another.
• Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator.
