Three and a half years we've lived in this house, and in all that time we haven't had a single leaflet through our door from the incumbent MP. Regular news of what the Lib Dems are doing to brighten up the neighbourhood, revamp the parks, improve safety and discourage yobbishness in the parish, but from our high profile Labour MP? Nothing. Not a sausage.
Well, it's been a day or so since Gordo let slip the news about the election (which everyone had been predicting since before Christmas) and what's this I see on my doormat? A red-top leaflet prominently featuring a photograph of a smiling Gerald, a few pathetic sentences about his recent good deeds, and a plea for my vote.
Ha!
I made up my mind many, many years ago that it would take more than election-time canvassing to secure my loyalties. I don't know where Gerald has been since the last election but there's not been a single sighting in this neck of the woods since we moved in. Too late, mate. Way too late.
PS: PVR clock display on powering down after tonight's telly? 23:33. Nice.
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