The price of getting into bed with the Tories

Weeelllllll. Hands up if you saw that coming? Right, me neither. My prediction ability has remained firmly in place – I’m still rotten at it. On the other hand, even in their wildest naughty dreams, the DUP can’t have imagined their name resting on the lovely tongue of Mishal Husain. And few in the SDLP can have imagined that they’d end last night no longer able to  call themselves the South Down and Londonderry Party.

In the coming days, there’ll be much talk about the abstentionist policy of Sinn Féin, which some will hope embarrasses them. Why can’t they get in there and vote with the Labour Party and change the face of Britain?

There may be some Shinners who will feel uncomfortable, once they come down from Cloud #9 over their wins in Derry and South Down. Not many, though. If anything, the issue of Irish reunification will be magnified every time the question of Sinn Féin’s abstentionism is raised. The Shinners’ refusal to put their rear-ends on the Chamber benches must prompt the question Why? To which the answer is, of course, that as roughly one hundred years ago Sinn Féin refused to take their Westminster seats because they believed in an independent Ireland, today’s Sinn Féin MPs are going to be giving the same answer. Sooner or later the British people will absorb the idea that maybe these Irish should finally be given that most modest of requests, control of their  country.

But the name of the DUP will shortly leave  Mishal’s mouth and land heavily in the midst of British horse-trading. Nigel and his ten-strong posse will be preening themselves at the thought of once more becoming British king-makers. Will their ability to squeeze out some more goodies for the north enhance their standing here? Um, sort of. Maybe.

The thing is, they’ve already gone as far as they can go with mopping up the unionist vote. The UUP is gone, so what electoral advantage will they have from getting into bed with the Tories? Like Alexander the Great, they may find themselves weeping that they’ve no more worlds to conquer.

In fact they could find themselves going backways. Entwining their limbs with the Tories will mean limb-entwining with the one party that last night emerged as the Big Losers. Not even that Welsh-National-Anthem-mouthing Tory John Redwood, on TV this morning, could gloss over that fact. So the DUP are about to get up close and personal with a party that’s just staggered from the slaughter-house, still alive but bleeding heavily and missing a limb or two.

If the Tories were unpopular before this election; they’ll become even more unpopular if they continue  their hard Brexit charge. And the EU won’t have missed how Britain’s bargainers have the shakiest of backings back home. And who’s at the front of the queue to cuddle up to the bruised-and-bloody Tories?  Take a bow, DUP. As a party traditionally agin supping the Devil’s buttermilk, you’ll surely applaud the sentiments of this little Irish poem. Providing, of course, you don’t spot political parallels.

It was a year ago, September
a day I well remember
I was walking up and down
in drunken pride
when my knees began to flutter
and I fell down in the gutter
and a pig came by and lay down by my side
 
As I lay there in the gutter
thinking thoughts I could not utter
I thought I heard a passing lady say,
“You can tell a man who boozes
by the company he chooses…”
And with that, the pig got up and walked away

Be careful what you wish for, Arlene,Nigel et al . Showering the upturned face of the Brexiting Tories with hot kisses may seem like fun at the time, but kisses can prove costly in months and years to come.