It’s Sunday. I’m writing this, full of the cold, on next-to-no sleep, following my neighbours’ overnight face-punching exhibition – with shrieking – so I’m not exactly at my best. By the time you read this (or get a grown-up to read it to you) it’ll be election day. If you live in the UK, you’ll have either voted, hoping for change or not voted, filled with levels of despair and contempt you never knew you had.
In the last week, the human Miliband has given us a pinky promise he’ll never co-operate with anyone democratically elected in Scotland because he’d prefer another five years of Cameron, austerity, foodbanks, sanctions and the last labour government being blamed for everything from aids to herpes. I’ve just learned today that he’s unveiled a massive gravestone, presumably for the Labour Party’s relationship with the labour movement. Perhaps if he gets in, Scotland could have one that says simply, Scottish Labour. Never to May 7th, 2015. And a picture of Margaret Curran devouring her own tail. Or Jim Murphy sniffing Evo-stik from a crisp bag. Something dignified like that.
On a brighter note, the polls are suggesting that not only will the red tories be wiped out in Scotland, but ukip might well achieve the same in England. All it would take is ukip removing Farage and backtracking on the racism of the last few years and they could be poaching core blue tory voters the way the SNP have snapped up those repelled by the so called Labour party’s abandoning their original ideals in favour of Thatcherism, sorry Blairism. Within ten years, both Labour and the Selfservatives could be just something we laugh about when we talk about ‘the good old days’. Like spacehoppers, deely-boppers and spangles.
(Wednesday) Finally, this cold’s starting to clear up. The coughing’s slowed to almost a standstill and I can just about sleep right through the night. This week’s plan was to work on ‘Person hair’, but my concentration’s been shot. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow!

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