 12 deisemba 2019. Election Day. How will we look back on this day in decades to come? The choices we make reveal who we are. We journey on, step by step, but we must confront the fork in the road. Do we continue with food banks, sanctions and bedroom taxes? Do we continue with couriers and where else workers tied to an app that measures each step but never a drop of sweat? How many more children with dual eyes will give up on homework in bed and breakfasts? How many students will have sensed the weight of debt on their shoulders and showed out the fork that there might be all before the free? How many parents work so hard that they barely see their own children? Why do we not care for carers dangling on zero-hour contracts taking their breaks at bus stops? How many of the sick have been deemed fit for work? Victims to a false god of austerity? This is the lives of millions. Now out of sight and ignored, like shattered prisons, the undermined youth detention centres festering of violence among written off souls. And these are our neighbours, a country of millions living in fear and to mouth. It doesn't have to be this way in the fifth richest country on the planet. It doesn't have to be this way in a world where a many van full of billionaires control more wealth than half of humanity. There's a fork in the road. A fierce choice is coming. Do we look across the Atlantic and tug the forelock and offer ourselves like sacrificial lamster corporate lawyers? We will tear apart any regulation or shred of decency that interferes with profit. There's a fork in the road. And a mighty choice is coming. On the 12th of December. Is it the survival of the fittest? Or is it the ancient challenge long before even the good book or scraped on Egyptian papyrus? Of loving thy neighbour as thyself. We are brilliant. We can make a plan. Now, ever imperfect, it's still a plan. For us, for life on our planet and for those yet to come. There's a fork in the road. There's a fork in the road. And is it I? Is it I? I. Or is it we?