You Must Think I Have Lost My Mind

I have been looking very seriously at the UK Election. Which is strange, being a situationist artist. Yet, being a pisces, it's my nature to swim against the current. While everybody else is drawing back, in distaste as much as anything, the election geared towards the million floating voters in key marginals that the politicians care about, with the overall vote plummeting to under 59%, I am by contrast engaging enthusiastically with the process in a frankly uncharacteristic way, assuming that I can make a difference, and making it my bounden and totally unpaid duty to be a journalist in the meeja sense of the word.

So I may have become boring as hell, but I have maintained tight control over my bodily and mental functioning you will be pleased to hear. And in the fixated obsessions of party political minutiae lies intrigue, accusations, posters of Freddie Ljungberg.

I interviewed Bridget Fox this afternoon. Since LibDem HQ is 3 floors above Tory HQ in the same bland office building in St Pauls Road, I also met the Conservative candidate Melanie McLean today, and I am happy to say she too agreed to an interview. Tomorrow is the last day that candidates can enter this election, so I will finally have a finite list, and large sighs of relief will be heard echoing in my sock drawer and beyond, into the blanket cupboard.

I wonder if Jesus "The Hat" Shipphams will stand this time for the Islington Dental Party. He means well, and he's good on the beach, but he smells so much of rotten fish it's hard to keep it polite on the doorstep.