Forget about the £22 billion black hole in public finances that came to be during the Tories’ 14 years of Westminster rule – perhaps the most devastating blow to their legacy is the lack of Oasis tours throughout this era. Seriously: the Gallagher brothers could only seem to get on when the Labour Party (under Blair, Brown, and now Starmer) held a parliamentary majority. 

Britpop – an artistic movement spanning from the 90s to early 2000s in which a new form of British patriotism, particularly in relation to the working class experience, was delivered through alternative rock music – divides public opinion. Initially perceived as a countercultural narrative against both the English social establishment and popular American grunge music, some now see it as the peak of modern British culture, while others simply say it’s overrated. 

The question of whether Britpop is overrated is far too philosophical an issue for Misc. to tackle – we can’t even tell you if Blur is better than Oasis. The role of party politics in this movement and its afterthought, however, is fodder for discussion. It is often said that art imitates life, but the importance of the political context of these works cannot be understated either. 

Though it may be a stretch to draw a direct line from Labour rule to Oasis’ activity, the breadth of Britpop’s storied existence and consumption is indeed capable of explaining much of the British working class’ lived experience throughout this most recent political era. 

“I wanna sleep with common people / like you”, a line from Pulp’s 1995 hit song ‘Common People’, is not just a memorable quip to finish off a crescendoing chorus. Although a direct quote from a conversation between Pulp’s lead singer and a girl he met during his uni days, these eight words might sum up the British political establishment’s relationship with working class voters in recent years. 

Touching on the Tories’ most recent electoral win – namely the 2019 general election in which Boris Johnson broke the supposed “red wall” of mostly working class, Labour supporters in Northern England – it is this sleazy disdain packaged as chummy camaraderie that served as a sail in the wave of support for the Conservatives in that election. 

Johnson attempted to curate an image of himself as a man of the people who had been thrust into the political establishment not of his own accord. This was achieved, in part, through his unkempt appearance and stumbling style of speech, however clearly existed in opposition to the reality of him being an Old Etonian with a storied family legacy in the European Union. 

Nonetheless, he won over 43.6% of the British public. Through a combination of his aforementioned qualities, as well as the slogan “Get Brexit Done”, he benefited from the highest percentage of vote share seen by any party in 40 years. 

Pulp’s Common People rings true even more so now that the public are aware of the reality of Johnson’s premiership: one that egregiously broke COVID-19 regulations and lockdown rules in a manner that cements the belief that there’s one rule for those in power, and another for everyone else. We can easily substitute Johnson and his colleagues into the place of the girl who ignorantly idolises the life of “common people” throughout the song, both showing an interest in, yet no respect for, the broader public. 

To return to a time when it was, perhaps, more socially acceptable to vote Conservative than it is nowadays, David Cameron represented a turning point for the Tories when he assumed the role of Prime Minister in 2010. Not only had he just formed a government with the help of the Liberal Democrats, thus ending Labour rule, but as the first Tory PM since John Major – a famously boring man – he ushered in a workplace rigour with which his cabinet tackled their objectives.

Some of these objectives, namely a prolonged period of austerity and the Brexit referendum, will most probably be remembered poorly by generations to come. However, a principal achievement of the Cameron government is the legalisation of same-sex marriage in early 2014. It would be far too easy, and borderline lazy, to now quote Blur’s song ‘Girls & Boys’, in which they look for “girls who are boys / who like boys to be girls / who do boys like they’re girls / who do girls like they’re boys”. So that’s what I’ll do. 

Released in 1994 as a single from Blur’s Parklife album, contemporary music critics immediately recognised the 80’s techno-pop influence of the record. This subgenre was at times indistinguishable from the queer climate at the time – one being ravaged by the AIDS crisis while simultaneously building the foundations of a community that would come to flourish. 

‘Girls & Boys’ was representative of the lighter side of Britpop, which acted as a successor to the liberated London of the 1960s and gave rise to the ‘Cool Britannia’ mentality. This often gets overlooked in Britpop revisionism that purely focuses on the grittier aspects of the genre. 

While running the risk of affording Cameron’s government too much credit for passing into law what was already widely socially accepted on the street, it goes without saying that the legalisation of same sex marriage serves as a momentous occasion for their country. However this joie-de-vivre is cut short when the subsequent anti-trans sentiment took hold in the conservative party, most notably under Lizz Truss and Rishi Sunak’s premierships. 

For political junkies, or nerds with too much spare time, I suggest a fun and lighthearted activity: assign a 21st century UK prime minister to a Britpop song and explain why. I’ll start: Theresa May and ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’, because the British public have taken three years to realise that, compared to the rest, she wasn’t that bad. Lizz Truss and ‘There She Goes’, because there she went, quicker than a head of cabbage. Rishi Sunak and ‘Creep’, because, well, he is one?

Coping mechanisms aside, there is a case to be made that Britpop and Tory rule of the UK exist somewhat in tandem or, at least, that the former was bound to be succeeded by the latter. Riding the wave of New Labour, a young generation embraced the concept of patriotism without the knowledge of its ultimate apparition – nationalism. More precisely, a nationalism that simply rejects whatever is current in favour of a vague idea of the past, one which the Tories equipped themselves with for the last few years of their reign. 

It was the Britpop generation – those who could claim to be cool in the 90s – that perhaps suffered most greatly during the global market crash, saw the path to homeownership run away from them or yearned for a time when their country seemed to be on the up. Therefore, perhaps a younger generation shouldn’t be too quick to judge them for jumping into bed with the Tories, and falling for their promises.