It's time to vote again.
I told the caller from New Labour when he phoned about a month ago that I'll be voting for their three men. So New Labour have left us alone.
We've kept the Tories from the door too, but they've stretched their long, slimy arms and popped some leaflets through our letterbox. All the leaflets seem to explain how they are committed to reduce the time for removing grafitti from fourteen days to a mere seven.
There's one leaflet showing all three Tory candidates together, smiling to the camera, looking like three middle aged zombies who've dug themselves out of their 1950s early graves and been on a rampage round the local charity shops in search of old, ill-fitting trousers and jackets that DO NOT GO TOGETHER.
Of course the Tories will win in our ward (working class people shooting themselves in the foot as was said in one of Mike Leigh's condescending films), but NOT because George Galloway told them to vote against Blair and the Iraq War but because they feel it's time for a change which of course means a Conservative government and young Mr Cameron.
And the better off will be better off. And the worse off will be worse off.
How jolly bloody super.
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