DATELINE: Fort Stockton, Texas

Some fun facts about Texas: it was a Republic between 1836 and 1845. It only joined the Union on the conditions that it could secede whenever it felt like it, and that it could divide itself into five smaller states whenever it felt like it, like some kind of constitutional Hydra. These get-out-of-the-Union-free cards remain at Texas’s disposal to this day. I mention this just because there’s still a fiercely independent spirit to the Lone Star State. As we drive from Houston to Austin, and watch the typical headgear change from stetson to beanie, the only candidate lawn signs in either city are for local Sheriff or State representatives, rather than Presidential candidates (not including Ron Paul signs. EVERYWHERE has Ron Paul signs. We’ve seen Ron Paul signs fixed to trees in the middle of a Louisiana swamp for chrissakes). The point is that Washington feels like a very long way away – and most Texans want it to stay there.

Austin is an incredible city. Famous the world over for its music scene and progressive attitude, the main activity is, quasi-officially, just hanging out. You don’t have to do this with a rollie cigarette, a faded black band t-shirt, and sandals, but it is encouraged. Obviously this is somewhat of a departure from the stereotype of the macho, conservative state George W. Bush used to govern. Talking to our new friend Ryan in The Side Bar, I respond to his loathing for Bush by asking him why he chose to move to Texas from his native Chicago. Ryan laughs: “this ain’t Texas.”

Ryan would like to see Bush impeached. He recalls the attempts to impeach Bill Clinton, snorting into his beer, which has been self-spiked with tomato juice (”it stops you getting sun-burned in the summer”, he explains, completely seriously). “Bill Clinton can do whatever the hell he likes with a cigar, as far as I’m concerned” he says, citing budget-balancing and other economic successes.

Bush’s State Of The Union speech earlier that evening was better delivered than usual – he didn’t look like a lost child in a shopping mall for once, and managed to be less monotonous than the dreary Democratic response that followed it. Delivery aside, it was, of course, rich in hawkish doublethink:

“In Iraq, our enemies are fighting to secure safe-havens for terrorists.”

The only person who’s secured a safe-haven for terrorists in Iraq is the man who launched an illegal, unilateral, ad hoc invasion of it.

“Al-Qaeda is on the run in Iraq.”

And they’re running right towards you, strapped with explosives.

“We will continue to deliver justice to our enemies.”

No, you’ll just keep making more of them.

Ryan and our wonderful host Meghan, who have more tattoos between them than pretty much everyone I know, share with us liberal America’s sadly familiar talking point: where they’d most like to emigrate to – in the event that someone like Huckabee or Romney were elected, I presume. There are stories of friends travelling abroad and getting trouble because they’re American: “That’s what Bush has done to us, he’s made us an embarrassment, as a nation of people. I hear it’s safer to pretend you’re Canadian.”

So who are they voting for? Ryan’s happy with Obama or Clinton, either change will do, and Meghan, sighing, says Obama. She supposes. “But I don’t even know if I’m eligible to vote in the Democratic primary. That’s really awful, right? I feel really bad that you guys are more into this election than so many Americans are.”

I explain that, on the contrary, that’s what we expected; that disaffection seems likely, and justifiable in many ways.

“I think I’m registered as a Green or an Independent or something. I suppose basically the problem is that none of the candidates are far left enough for me, they’re just too close to the Republicans. And I just don’t really trust any of them.”