![1620556425663.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmZFBsPfXBgzweyihkqRH3vz6rFGcdfqHLhKpAoc6RiQEq/1620556425663.jpg)

*Warning: the following is a dry and sterile dissection of the proportional representation voting system we have here in Scotland. It is a cold and factual dissection of the how and the why and might be quite dull. Read on at your peril.*

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*Damn, We are so close to getting a majority but I don't think we will.*

The Good Lady said, looking at the latest results of the voting rolling into her phone. 

I stole a look over her shoulder. 

*We have 63 seats, I thought we only needed 65 or something to get a majority. They have loads left to call. It will be a fucking doddle. We are laughing!*

As if to emphasise my point I tipped back my head and let out a laugh that a Hyena who had just eaten the severed penis of an ostrich would be proud of.

*No, Daddy-Bear. I am afraid not. Because the rest of the votes fall under the proportional representation rules, it is looking quite unlikely that we will get a majority even though we will win the general vote.*

The Good Lady said this with all the certainty of someone with no job who has time to watch shows on TV discussing elections and how voting works.

*Is it not just, who gets the most votes wins?*

I said, my face going all squinty with puzzlement. 

The Good Lady looked at me the same way I look at those people that keep turning up at my door asking if I want my gutters cleaned.

*No no, Daddy-Bear. It works like this...*

As she started warbling about lists and double votes and other absurdities I felt reality blink out around me and I found myself drifting into nothingness.

*See the thing is, right. If we shit in our socks and throw the socks at the  windows it has more chance of crashing through?*

A man crouched on the ground in front of me, frantically tugging his socks off.

*Come on then, what are you waiting for?*

*Sock-Man* had completed pulling his socks off and was now squatting, trousers around his ankles, holding a sock to his pallid arse as if it were a trumpet and he hoped to tootle out a brown tune or two.

*I beg your pardon? Shit in a sock? Why on earth would I shit in a sock?*

I wasn't sure what was going on. Hadn't I just been talking to the Good Lady about voting? Yet, here I was, lurking in some undergrowth outside a big house in the fading light of dusk.

*So you aren't going to shit in your sock?*

*Sock-Man* appeared to have filled his first sock and it bulged obscenely in his hand like a nightmare [meatball marinara.](https://www.subway.com/en-gb/menunutrition/menu/product?ProductId=4975&MenuCategoryId=436#)

*No. Of course I'm not going to shit in my sock?!*

*Sock-Man* wrinkled his face in disgust at me as he started fartily filling up number two.

*You just going to shit in your hand then? That's fucking barbaric mate.*

He screwed up his eyes as the second sock filled with a series of wet plorps and *spup* noises.

*What, No?! I am not shitting in my hand, in fact,  I am not shitting, full stop.*

At this, *Sock-Man* reared back and glared at me suspiciously. 

*You pop up, out of nowhere and say you arent going to shit in a sock? Don't you know... We win together?*

He crouched there, this strange *Sock-Man,* looking peculiarly Toad-like in the dim light, each hand burdened by a heavy sock full of his own shit.

*You understand?*

He hissed.

*You understand now?*

I blinked. 

The Good Lady was poking at me with an accusing finger. Guiltily I looked around me to make sure that she hadn't caught me shitting in a sock.

*Thats what proportional representation means. You understand now?*

I looked at her and imagined that man in the woods shitting desperately into a sock so that he could throw it through a window.

*Yes...*

I nodded.

*I think I do understand...*

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*And there you have it. Proportional representation in a nutshell. You're welcome!*