More voting

A pleasant and sunny day here in Cricklewood. One shabby and bored looking little Lib Dem loitering outside the polling station, whom I ignored on my way in. Alas, I could not use my favourite method of deciding for whom to vote in that there were no attractive young ladies attempting to boost the fortunes of their party.

So which bunch of nonentities should I send to that temple of tedium and venality, then? I scanned the ballot paper and noted to my disgust that the Whigs had again failed to put up a slate; it’s as if they had given up hope of ever returning to power.

As a gentleman it would, of course, be impossible for me to vote for either Labour or the Conservatives. Which means it’ll have to be… but, wait. Here is one name I recognise: Arthur Scargill and the Socialist Labour Party.

For one delicious moment my pencil hovered over the box. And then I thought of the other people who might vote for them: the pathetic, the deluded, the washed-up and downright insane.

Sanity returned and applying the usual no nutters rule there was only one choice left. As I left I occurred to me that the party who won my support might do even better if they were honest and renamed themselves Go On, I Suppose It’ll Have To Be The Liberal Democrats.

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Meanwhile, pleasant confirmation of what we always suspected. Ukip supporters are not very bright.