If you were a letterbox (heaven forfend) you’d be hard-pressed to know that there was an election going on. No rat-a-tat-tat of a hopeful candidate, no clatter and the dog barking as a flyer gets pushed through the door. Until today.
The LibDems were out quite early, although they didn’t quite beat the paper lass or the postie, but there it was, a four page newspaper telling us how great our MP is.
To be fair, the Lib Dems here are pretty active and are forever stuffing bits of paper through our letterbox, each extolling the virtues of our Honourable Member. (Oo-er Matron.)
I’m not sure where the Tory rags have got to, or the Red Flag Mags come to that.
Then there is the BNP. Okay, they could give us a head start and still beat us to Alice’s teaparty, but assault rifles at home? Hmmm.
And all on St George’s Day. A favourite of mine for two reasons. One, it is also the birthday of my late father-in-law, a good old lad who always bore the rose because he was one of those who fought and, two, it is also the birthday of the bloke who wrote Henry Vee and Vy.
God rest Jules and Sandy.