In Very Tasteful Florals

I expect that, if you live in England, you are as excited as I am about the forthcoming local elections. Which is really not very excited at all, in fact you've probably already left this blog and gone off to read something else.

Nevertheless, I found it strangely gratifying to have a leaflet come through the door about the Conservative Party Candidate, with a picture that looks exactly as you'd expect her to look:


They're quite good at that, are the Conservatives in this ward: there's the lady above, and then there's the One in the Suit, and then there's the Blond Floppy-Haired Public-Schooly One. I once had a bit of a barney with Blond Floppy-Hair in the street, about Mrs Thatcher. He was saying how magnificent she was and I was saying - with as much drama as I could muster, which was plenty - "Mrs Thatcher Stole My Youth!"

He continued his wasn't-she-wonderful theme and I said "Ah, poor thing, you're too young to remember what it was like, still I expect you'll grow out of it when you get a bit older" and other annoying things in as patronising a manner as I could. Which was Very Very Patronising Indeed.

Mind you, Labour politicians who think they're Cool are just as bad, because they never, never are. At least you know where you are with the Tories. Somehow self-serving politicians who say they're Labour men-of-the-people annoy me even more.

I was brought up always, always to vote, and I almost always do. But I can't blame anyone who doesn't: that old slogan "Don't Vote - it Only Encourages Them" seems to ring more true with every passing year.