Going back to the grass roots

and related compounds of self-regard, self-importance, and self-abuse.

There are a variety of synonyms, majorijuana, blairja, and hashdown

being the most common . . .''

MEDICAL literature tells only half the story. Amid fears that huge

consignments of low-grade ''presidential'' politics have been smuggled

into Britain in recent years via the so-called Bubba Connection,

evidence is growing that abuse of the drug has become commonplace at all

levels of society. The consequences are, to be blunt, just tragic.

Consider, for example, the recent well-documented case of the young,

personable, and otherwise intelligent barrister who suffered 'visions''

after overdosing on the drug. Condemned now to a life dependent on

round-the-clock ego care and intravenous manifestos, ''Tony'' has little

to look forward to, and only a fading memory of the happy days when he

was taken seriously to look back on.

Consider, too, the many reports from up and down the country of

ordinary citizens, single mothers, nurses and rail workers among them,

savagely assaulted and robbed blind by politics-crazed individuals

forced into crime to sustain their habit.

What began as a dinner-party joke about yobs has become a vicious

sub-culture stopping at nothing to score a few votes. One speech leads

to another: it is a slippery slope. How, then, can we make our young

aware of the risks? If you must use politics, remember never to inhale.

While certain so-called experts proclaim it a harmless recreational

drug, others have demonstrated that repeated use can lead to paranoia

and short-term memory loss, especially when being asked simple policy

questions (known as Ashdown's Syndrome), or prompted to recall

conference decisions (Kinnock's Disease).

As an aid to a thoroughly relaxed attitude to social decay and

economic justice, politics can be useful, but only in MODERATE (loc.

cit) doses and under medical supervision.

Politics has not yet been decriminalised in Britain. While there are

many who argue that all users should be locked up, partly for their own

good and partly because it would be a lot of fun, really, LIBERALS (cf

boring leaflets, passim) still claim that small amounts of politics for

personal use never did anyone any harm, man. This school of thought has

gained ground of late, largely because television pundits have very

little else to talk about.

Politics, it should be noted, gives off a distinctive odour, somewhat

reminiscent of sanctimoniousness -- though many have compared it

unfavourably to horse manure. Often the drug is cut (or ''composited')

with other substances. Empty promises and banality are commonly used for

this purpose.

As a result, the potency of politics is reduced drastically, and some

people have demanded their government back after experiencing no effect.

Nevertheless, the practice can be highly dangerous, with gibbering fury

not the least of its consequences.

Heavy politics users are easy to spot, as a rule. First study their

eyes. In a long-term abuser these have a vacant, empty look, as of

someone in a coma (a symptom typical of the onset of the condition known

as Sleeping Majorism). Their speech, similarly, is unmistakable, tending

towards a loud, unvarying drone in which the words ''me'', ''I'', and

''myself'' are the only identifiable sounds.

Be aware, too, that politics has an identifiable culture of its own.

Perhaps because of public disapproval and the drug's dubious legal

status, its users often frequent what is known as a ''cracked House''.

Furtively, behind heavy doors and surrounded by armed guards, these sad

individuals congregate to indulge their vice, ''partying' and ''doing a

few lines'' of a hard-core reading, sometimes until late into the night.

Common in the politics sub-culture is the predilection for ''raves''

(as in ''he's raving''), or party conferences (as in ''let's party, Home

Secretary'') as they are sometimes known. These bacchanalian orgies can

go on for as much as four days at a time, amid frenzied snoring, mass

hallucinations, and appeals to delegates to please come back after

lunch.

Loud speeches with repetitive, hypnotic rhythms are played at these

events while participants clad in sixties-style clothes and

eighties-style attitudes perform bizarre dances around one another.

Their aim, they declare, is to ''get high'' in the opinion polls,

though most, to be fair, just get very boring.

Conferences begin when word is passed that a shipment of new politics

has arrived. Participants then set off in large groups for some

unsuspecting seaside resort, apparently with the sole intention of

creating headlines and falling out. Psychologists define this as

attention-seeking behaviour, or ''infantile'' for short.

Make no mistake, however: politics can be deadly. Behind the glamorous

round of resolutions, votes of thanks, and keynote speeches, lurks real

tragedy. Some victims suffer from the pathetic delusion that they are

actually achieving something. Others spend decades sitting at home

''preparing for government''. A few, if not quickly restrained, will

threaten to ''fight, fight and fight again''.

In the worst cases politics can lead to the conviction that anyone,

anywhere, gives a toss what you think about the monarchy, the economy,

dope or defence.

But the victims of politics are to be pitied, not mocked. Should you

encounter one lurking on a doorstep, a fugitive look in his eyes and a

stash of Brighton Black or Blackpool Red hidden about his person, don't

call the police. Talk to him, offer him the price of a cup of tea, or

telephone the social services on his behalf.

On no account, however, yield to the familiar, wheedling plea for

''just one vote, guv''. There is no telling where it might lead. Would

you want an MP on your conscience? In other words, when it comes to

politics, Just Say No. Be safe, stay healthy: smoke dope instead.