Daventry Local Elections 2014

Well, the day is at hand. Tomorrow is election day and I am still to receive any form of communication (other than the tweets from Emma Collins) from any of the candidates running tomorrow.


I was unable to write profiles on the Liberal Democrat candidate or the Trade Unionist. Purely because I couldn’t find anything out about them. They too, like the Labour candidate, appear to not want to be elected and are happy to fritter away their deposit on a whim.


I suppose it’s like betting on horses or entering the National Lottery. Only with a higher stake.


It’s a sorry state of affairs when the candidates in the local area just aren’t bothered about promoting their cause. It’s a sorry state of affairs when potentially good candidates give up before they’ve even started the race.


Tomorrow I will vote in two elections. The local and the European. I know nothing about any of the candidates other than bold brags about how they are going to stand up. Well I’ve got news. I’m going to stand up.


None of you candidates are worth the lives of the thousands of soldiers who died in the Great War 100 years ago. Not one of you. You should be ashamed and you are an affront to democracy. No wonder that the youth are disconnected from politics. No wonder fascist groups are on the rise in the UK and EU. It is even no wonder great minds and thinkers are leaving this country for other more enlightened parts of the world. When people like you are all the people have to select as their voice once every few years. Prove me wrong. Come canvassing in Norton tomorrow. I’m in all day. Come and tell me why I should vote for you. Contact me via this blog, twitter or where ever. I’ll meet you. Convince me you are doing this for your own beliefs and not some misguided attempt at getting your name on a park bench when you die.


And so, to you dear reader, all I can urge you to do tomorrow is vote. Vote for the candidate you feel is worthy of the job of representing you in the European parliament. Vote for the candidate who you feel will do the best for your local area. Remember their promises and, if they default on them, use your greatest weapon against them to bring shame upon them. Your democratic vote and your freedom of speech.


While, of course, you still have them.

Stoppit & Tidyup

I “man clean” apparently. “Man Cleaning” is where you wipe around objects on a surface rather than lifting the object and wiping the surface underneath. My theory is that as the object hasn’t been moved since the last time I wiped the surface the underside remains clean.

I “man clean”. I apply this technique to vacuuming too allegedly as well as dusting. Indeed, such may be the case but I believe if you can see the dirt, it is dirty. If the dirt is obscured say, by a couch, a rug or a table then leave it be until such time as the object requires movement or the dirt has started to coalesce into some multicellular organism akin Quatermass II. Such a technique allows for more time spent cleaning other areas and ample “after cleaning” time, usually spent writing bollocks on LJ or some such.

When I awoke this morning my first task was to tidy the house. I picked things up off the floor, disposed of waste, placed things back into cupboards, filled the dishwasher and wiped the surfaces (using the “man clean” technique). The vacuuming will wait until the morrow. I then dined on weetabix.

Milk. It’s a funny thing. As usual, bottles containing the white liquid are delivered to my door by Mr Inman (Terrance? Tom? either way his float is emblazoned with T Inman, which never ceases to raise a smile. Except then maybe) every morning. As usual when preparing my breakfast I thoughtfully leave the milk out for Mrs Gnomepants for her cereal who then decides to have toast or fruit and the milk remains out of the fridge until noticed. Of course in this weather, warm, muggy and frequent atmospheric pressure changes, milk tends turn. So as usual, when I am having my breakfast the following morning, I end up having bad milk on my weetabix. Not a pleasant taste really.

But then what do I know? I “man clean”.

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