OOOh, blood running cold and choppy with excitement at call of election. Think it's the election anyway, there's a chance I had too much caffeine and I'm about to arrest. Have been toying with idea of blogging it all, though I shouldn't cos I'm supposed to be working for a living. What the hell. They did say this was the Mumsnet election I'm sure. That would be why my seven-year-old remarked lying on the sofa watching the party leaders making their starter pitch, "Why isn't any of them a girl?". Of course, there were a few girls around. There was Harriet-Harman-woman with Cabinet colleagues arranged faithful and smiling like lunchtime gospel singers behind a presbyterian preacher; there was a blonde among the tie-less geeks stood by Dave Cameron; and the youngsters behind Nick Clegg that he kept checking on incase any of them were making a V-sign behind his head. And the wives of course. A clicketty-claketty Sarah Brown (has she lost weight? This is the sort of vital question we need to put to women who lay like a glittery-pink varnish over the ugly macho reality of British politics. And if we don't ask it, the Daily Mail certainly will.) And just how many days till the cry goes up "Put Sam First Dave" as his pregnant beauty begins to look shattered as she trails loyally after him. Maybe a formerly double-barrelled young man with a Blackberry in one pocket and his silk tie in the other, could be missioned to carry with him at all times a white plastic garden chair so Sam can sit down while she listens to Dave opining in the open air about the future. Note to Tories: garden chair for Sam. Definitely not shooting stick. Hell to drill them into concrete and may not play well.
So here we go then.
I intend spending the next month under the covers or out in the woods. Possibly with a shooting stick and preferably one with a large gun at the end for shooting stray parliamentary candidates.
General elections used to fill me with such excitement but I have never recovered from the immense feelings of anticlimax post 1997. Still, at least in this household Mr Grigg and I sit on opposite ends of the fence.
I was taken off guard as I thought it was going to be June. Should be a giggle, though, shouldn't it? I remember my daughter in her school days declaring that when she was older she was going to 'vote for a conservatory.' We were all for it, as you can imagine. Same daughter thought 'Golden Brown' by The Stranglers was 'Gordon Brown'. Maybe I should have got her hearing checked?
We woke up to that this morning (missed the TV coverage though, am in California so getting all news over the Internet). Was looking at the BBC News site with my 8-year-old and her summary was "The people are tired of Gordon Brown so there is an election". Hmmmmm, not sure that was the desired result.
My worry is for the leaders' sanity as they will be followed by at least one helicopter for the next four and a half weeks. However much their wives will be whinging about having to look inanely affectionate while avoiding controversial remarks, it will not be enough to drown out those bloody rotors.
Oooh, the choice. So Dave kept piping on about this morning on the telly. And all that travelling about they'll have to do. I do hope none of them have 4x4s.
Just got home after celebrating our 42nd Wedding Anniversary to be greeted with the wonderful (?) news that we are going to have an election on May 6th.
All the party machines are revving up and slipping into gear. The wives are being paraded like smiling Barbie Dolls, and their husbands are grinning inanely at all and sundry.
What a pack of useless individuals they are.
I think I'm going to hiberante until after 6th May, so I can avoid all the ballyhoo, rehtoric and false promises.
The only thing that stops me doing so is your blog wifie. Keep it coming!
I would suggest you do not blog the election . Its man`s work politics and you are too fluffy and pink to discuss
1 The Economy
3 Public Sector Cuts
I `m sorry but there it is , best you know now
re newmania: obviously I'm hurt by your words, but I know deep down you're right. It's the numbers which are the problem. Unless I have a man next to me to help me with the adding-up, I break down in tears. Nick Clegg suffers from exactly the same thing.
much empathy from your pals across the pond.
Dear Fluffy Pink -- Gee, not the way I visualize you at all! I see you as rather fearless! At least your election run-up won't last two years!
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