Getting married, it seems, continues to grow in difficulty. The sheer quantity of red tape and bureaucratic hurdles that must be navigated seems to increase every time that we turn around.

Hurdle number one was the French government. Although we are not getting married in France, as Karen is French they must approve our nupitals before allowing us to go ahead. This involved, amongst other things, submitting to them birth certificates that had been issued during the last few months.

This meant I had to order mine from overseas, leading us to the Canadian set of hurdles — the government needed to know various details about my birth of which I was unsure. Moreover, the online form provided did not state outright what information was needed — there was a new surprise on each page of the multi-page application. This meant nearly two weeks of partially filling out an application and quitting partway through to search out information that was not at my fingertips.

With France and Canada out of the way, we turned to the United Kingdom. The registration process seemed pretty straight-forward, so I should have known that we were missing something. Can’t get hitched without hitches, can we?

That something was the Home Office.

As a person who does not have permanent residency in the United Kingdom, I need to seek permission from the Home Office (who monitor immigration) in order to get married here. At first blush, this might seem to be reasonable — people can and do stay in the country by virtue of marriage, after all — but on further analysis it begins to appear silly.

First, I only need to do this as somebody who is living in the UK legally and intending to get married in the UK. The British government has no say as to who I marry should I go to France, Canada or Las Vegas (amongst other locations), and my visa status would permit me re-entry after the fact. Were I illegal, my application would be pointless, and my time would be better spent not drawing the Home Office’s attention to my predicament.

In other words, I am permitted to leave, marry a permanent resident of the UK and return without their permission; after this I would be seen as married by the Home Office for the purpose of any application I make.

Second, the alternative visa statuses for a married person are no more or less advantageous than my own is. The same rules and fees apply. In fact, it would take longer and cost more to switch my visa status over to the “due to marriage category” before applying for permanent residency in the UK.

Additionally, I would need to apply for such a visa — which means that the Home Office could then determine whether I was really married, or had a sham marriage for the purpose of remaining in the country.

In summary, the Home Office cannot prevent me from getting married by denying permission, my immigration status does not depend on whether or not Karen and I marry, and if it did (or ever does) they will have an opportunity to review my case at that time.

So why does the government insist that I must have the Home Office’s approval before they will allow Karen and I to get married in the UK? As with all things Home Office, my passport must be surrendered while they consider my application, and the waiting period for these applications is four to fourteen weeks.

That three month waiting period is going to be as excruciating as it is pointless. It will interfere with vacations and work, and generally destroys any opportunity Karen and I have to plan this thing.

Wedding delayed due to mindless bureaucracy that serves no apparent function.

Mr. Cameron: You seem concerned about my marital status. I’m anxious to fix it for you, if you would just get out of my way.

You might think, from Tuesday’s little outburst about David Cameron, that there is no way that I would vote for a Conservative in the upcoming election.

While the Conservatives certainly cannot count on my vote, you would be wrong — at this moment, I am still a very undecided voter.

It is simple, you see, to find reasons not to vote for a particular individual or party — it is easy to find something that you disagree with and focus on it. This tendency is what drives negative election campaigns and makes them successful. The truth is that no party involved in the election will have my support in everything they do.

There are two main principles on which I vote.

First, there is an order of importance when it comes to who you vote for — an order that most have backwards.

The individual comes first: you vote for your Member of Parliament. This person can vote against party lines, or even change party. My voice as a citizen will largely be determined by how that individual will vote, what they will speak up about, and how loud their voice will carry.

The party is a secondary consideration. While the votes are made by individuals, the individual’s voting pattern will likely match the party line about 90% of the time. Additionally, the party with the most seats will be able to govern (to some extent) by decree — not everything comes down to a vote in Parliament.

The final consideration, at a distant third, is the leader. While party leaders are important — they are usually the loudest voice in their party, and have considerable say in where “party lines” fall for the second issue above — they are also replaceable. If the Conservative party wins, David Cameron will not necessarily become Prime Minister. He could be ousted. Gordon Brown could switch teams and be elected the leader of the Conservative party.

Not likely, mind you, but if enough people involved agreed it could be done.

But I have digressed. The MP is important — my MP has my vote and my voice in Parliament.

The second issue is that one must look at what that candidate/party/leader will do if they get in power. What are the policies and laws they are likely to enact? How will they handle a crisis? If so many Americans really dislike Obama’s health care plan, what did they think they were voting for? It is best not to get into the wishy-washy world of “hope”, “change”, “austerity”, or “standing up for rights”. Take a look at what people actually intend to do.

Now, with a 370-word digression behind us, let us look at the Conservative party of the UK. We will take a look at the pre-conceptions of a Canadian, the truth behind those preconceptions, the leadership and election manifesto.

Then, the good — an area where I think the party has the best policy of the lot. The bad — an area where I think the party has made a misstep with a policy. And the ugly — something that makes me wonder if this is the right party for my vote.

So here we have it: The Conservative Party.

Misguided Preconceptions

My initial idea of the Conservative Party is that it must match Canada’s version of the same. The recent history is simply too similar to wave away.

Both parties elected what were initially incredibly popular governments in the 1980s, behind a wave of new conservatism. Both Conservative parties fell hard after their leaders (Thatcher & Mulroney, for those who aren’t paying attention) gave way to new (Conservative) Prime Ministers. Both Conservative parties were afterthoughts for more than a decade, until making a comeback with a new, young leader, after the opposing party’s Prime Minister left mid-term to have their Finance Minister/Chancellor take over the PM office.

So my initial reaction is that the Tories must be like the CRAP in Canada — that’s Conservative Reform Alliance Party, for you non-Canadians — and that my feelings for the Canadian Conservative party are transferable to the Conservative party in the UK.

The Truth

The truth is that the Conservatives in the UK are both very like and very different from the Canadian party of the same name. That 1980s heyday and 1990s collapse were very similar. But that does not make their longer-term histories or recoveries identical.

The Canadian version of the party is, essentially, the official opposition. While it spent the early days as the ruling party in Canada, it has formed only six ruling governments since 1900 — leaving it most often on the outside looking in.

The British Tories, however, have spent most of the 20th century governing the UK (see chart).

Furthermore, the means by which they have rehabilitated themselves is much different. While the Canadian Conservatives rejuvenated themselves by embracing their right-wing grassroots and forming an alliance with the Reform Party of Canada, the British Conservatives have gone in the other direction — embracing some centrist and left-wing ideals that they would have previously refused to touch.

While the Conservative Party of Canada attracts some and frightens others away as being the Canadian version of the Republican Party, the Tories here have those effects by being the party of the ruling class. They turn off voters due to a sense of entitlement, an air of superiority, and a tendency to trod upon those less fortunate then themselves. This is a far cry from the grassroots of embracing the Reform Party, Western Canada, and some of the ideals of the Republican Party in Canada.

In short, while the cover looks awfully familiar, the book inside is quite different.

The Leader

The Conservative Party has elected a leader who, rather than representing the rank-and-file of the party instead represents those that they are trying to woo. David Cameron is young (for a politician), and almost certainly more left-leaning than those he leads. But a right-wing party trying to win back voters needs to reclaim the centre.

The Manifesto

The Conservative election manifesto is called an invitation to join the government of Britain. It is very much that — a traditional conservative small-government manifesto. The central idea is to scale back government intervention in people’s lives — less big government, more “Big Society” to replace the current “Broken Britain.”

The Good

My favourite part of the Conservative campaign is in regard to schools. As a parent-to-be, an issue that would have never previously on my radar is front and centre.

I am prone to think that the knee-jerk reaction that Karen and I have that schools here “aren’t good” is due to the differences in the systems. The UK system looks nothing like the French or Canadian ones.

Whatever the system, though, there is no doubt that the Labour government has pumped a ton of money in to schools over the past decade, but that money has not been well-spent — UK school results are actually declining.

One of my biggest frustrations with the UK is that you cannot choose things for yourself if they are provided by the government. Your doctors, hospitals and other government services are defined by where you live — no matter what you want.

Well, the Tories would do away with this where schools are concerned — probably elsewhere too, based on their underlying ideals. These schools would be government-funded, and could be started by parents or charities (so long as they were not being run for profit). This, of course, would allow for parental choice and competition for the tax dollars — a good thing.

Of no small importance is that the timing of this change will allow for schools to be established, and for there to be results to analyze by the time my child is due to attend one. The Tories get a giant tick-mark under “education” for me.

The Bad

On the other hand, the Tories also want to reduce the Inheritance Tax.

I know, they’re the conservative party — reducing taxes ought to be their thing. But the Inheritance Tax should be the last one to go. The reason is quite simple: Money inherited is not earned.

Reducing inheritance taxes gives away money without gaining anything in return. Instead of everybody being rewarded more for their effort — the impact of reducing income tax, say — individuals are given rewards based on who they happen to have as family members.

There are better taxes to cut. Less inheritance tax will not create jobs, spur investment, or help the economy recover. It reminds me of that “entitled” feeling.

I know that I pay more in, tax-wise, than I get out. That’s OK. But I would rather not pay even more in (or get even less out) so that people who were born into an advantaged situation can further line their pockets with their parents’ money.

The Ugly

It’s small, but it’s quite the blight in my eyes.

A £150 tax credit for married couples.

In a government manifesto that’s all about small government, there’s this.

I like the idea of small government, I really do. I like a safety net, but not a bloated one. I don’t want the government spying on me with CCTV around every corner. I prefer a government that won’t tell me that I can only go to this doctor, my children can only go to that school, or that I ought to be married to the person I live with. It annoys me more to think that there are people who will stick it out for £150. It’s not a lot, but it can seem like a lifeline to somebody struggling to make ends meet.

I’d like a government who didn’t care whether two consenting adults living together were married, unmarried, divorced, or married to completely different people.

Because they shouldn’t. It’s none of their business.

The Bottom Line

The Conservatives are not the party I assumed they would be — they are much more interesting and nuanced. But they do trouble me.

They care about my marital status. They appear to put more weight on passing success to one’s heirs than they do on making it easier for people to better themselves.

I am fond of some of their stated policies, and feel that their left-leaning leader will stop them from going too far in the directions I find to be negative — they seem more like bones for the party’s base, rather than plans for the country.

On the other hand, it’s hard to believe that a socially conservative party is OK with gay marriages (sorry, civil partnerships) while trying to promote the traditional family unit. It’s hard to believe that — in the wake of an expense scandal — a move on the inheritance tax is not driven by self-interest.

And two of the pillars of their platform are that “Britain is broken”, and that individuals and communities should step up and do things like set up schools. Is this what people do within a broken society? Sit around and wait for government’s permission to start their own school?

When I look at their policies, even though I like much of what I see, there also seems to be a slight disconnect. The question I need to answer for myself is whether that disconnect is real, or if it’s a lingering distaste from my initial misconceptions, associating the UK party with their Canadian namesakes.

Amongst the perils of travelling, there is always the moment of entry. You hand your passport to somebody in a uniform. They look at your passport. They look at you. You briefly wonder if you look like yourself after thirteen hours on an airplane.

Probably not.

In countries where they do not speak English, this is then followed by the ritual stamping (and return) of the passport.

In countries where they do speak English, they ask questions. Perhaps this is because I’m an English speaker, so the questions will be understood. Or maybe only English-speaking countries bother with further examination. Regardless, British, Canadian and American border agents always ask me questions.

For the most part, they’re the same.

Americans ask why I’m there, and how long I’m staying.

Canadians are confused as to whether I’m visiting or returning. (Both, of course. I am returning for a visit).

Then there are the British. They ask questions that make little or no sense. After a red eye flight, with no sleep for nearly twenty-four hours, I tend to stumble over these questions. It is surprising that it has never delayed my re-entry.

On my first entry, they asked me a question about my visa application. I figured it was normal. They continued asking this question repeatedly over the next year. I was sure it was normal. In fact, one agent told me that there was a note on my file, which required them to ask this question. He took it off, and since then the questions have been more creative.

Q: “Do you still work in the same place?”
A: “…”

This one of the more common ones asked at the UK border. My visa is not tied to any particular job, so the answer does not actually matter. But the problem is that it doesn’t make sense. I work at the same job as I did when I left the country last. I work at the same job as I did when I last applied for a visa extension. I do not work at the same job as I did for the previous visa extension. Nor do I work at the same job as I did when I first applied for a UK visa.

Timelines matter. And jetlagged individuals do not deal well with non-specific questions.

Q: Why are you a resident?
A: Because I live here.

One of the answers you need to give when entering the UK on a non-EU passport is how long you are planning to stay. I do not have an answer, so I write “Resident” on the card. The border agent did not seem happy at that response. Perhaps she thought I was being cheeky, but it’s either that or “because I have a permit”. And she was looking at the permit.

Q: What qualification do you have?
A: …

The border agent literally asked that. Singular. Qualification. I thought he meant visa, so I told him. No, qualification. I told him about my bachelor’s degree. Could I have given him my project management qualification instead? Change management? Work experience? I am qualified to enter the country by virtue of the visa. I have many qualifications when it comes to the workplace.

Q: Where are you coming from today?

This question is not just asked in the UK. It is asked everywhere. And it is the hardest question to answer. Ten hours on a plane … am I coming from Toronto? Montreal? Kuala Lumpur? Atlanta? It’s hard to remember.

And if you had a connection, you might choose your original point of departure, rather than the most recent. Then the border guard is confused — no planes from that location have arrived recently.

By far the worst question for the frequent traveler. You’re wandering through an airport, following the signs towards the exit. You’ve just left a tin can where you spent the last twelve hours or so. You haven’t slept. You smell. You just want to clean yourself and sleep.

Where are you coming from?

A week ago, we sent our roving correspondent to the 10:23 protest in London, to attempt to overdose on a homeopathic remedy. Although she reported feeling a bit of a sugar high, she left otherwise undamaged.

Given my own comments prior to the protest, I was quite surprised when I read an article implying that the protest had some impact in New Zealand — where the New Zealand Council of Homeopaths admitted that the remedies have no active ingredients.

Unfortunately, homeopaths are not the only people who can twist things to make them look untrue. A closer look at the full statement makes it clear that they react by using similar arguments to those I outlined, adding in some of their expert gibberish.

The New Zealand homeopaths argue that just because there’s nothing in it does not mean that there is no active ingredient. (Note to homeopaths: An ingredient is a required part of active ingredient.) They re-label the old “water has memory” argument using the word “electromagnetic”, indicating only that they have never studied electromagnetism.

They also say something about nut allergies, which is completely irrelevant. Nuts, it should be noted, tend to contain nuts.

What they do not do, however, is back off and say that their cures are not cures at all. Instead, they simply say that those who disagree with them simply demonstrate ignorance of homeopathy.

We respectfully disagree, and feel that those who take homeopathic remedies are the ones demonstrating their ignorance. But we freely admit that the chances of those who are financially (or emotionally) dependent upon homeopathy will ignore anything we say in this space.

That said, admitting that there is nothing in the remedies could very well result in many people turning to real medicine rather than turning to homeopathic charlatans. This would be a good thing. This effect will only be enhanced by the nearly impossible task of finding the statement in context in any news report.

Other homeopathic institutes also seem to be feeling the pressure and digging holes for themselves — in the UK, they have misrepresented scientific studies to parliament, which seems to be getting them into some trouble.

Perhaps none of this should surprise me — I have previously posited that the consumer’s belief that they have enlightened themselves is the number one tool that homeopathy uses to sell their products. If major news outlets are reporting skeptical viewpoints over pro-homeopathy viewpoints, they have a serious problem.

Because in the end, their remedies do not work. It is all a big bluff, a marketing campaign. It depends on misinformation being easier to find than facts.

So they have gambled. They have said “Yes, but …” and hoping that the pseuoscientific jargon following the “but” would be enough. They have misrepresented studies, and hoped that the Members of Parliament, not being scientists, would not have scientifically literate fact checkers working for them.

Usually, when you gamble, the house wins; the gambler loses.

It is starting to look like I was wrong; 10:23 has struck a blow.