Normal Service Will Be Resumed

Apologies for the slackness with the blogging. Will be back to normal service in the next few days - just waiting to hear back from a man in the Gorgie who has a job lot of bad jokes that should be right up my street.

I know that I should be mentioning the current Election, and it did cross my mind to try and pass off my recent silence with the excuse that I have been too busy leafletting/canvassing/fly-postering/stalling (erm you know what I mean), etc, etc but: 1) I'm still finding my feet in the Kingdom of Fife. 2) I've been that seriously underwhelmed with the General Election up to this point, that I'm almost nostalgic for John Major and his soapbox or John Prescott and his uppercut.

Every other hour, I'm twitching the curtain to see if a canvasser knocks on the door but as this is one of those Parliamentary Constituencies where they don't count the Labour vote, they just stick it in a pile in the corner come polling day, and intone: "Another Labour landslide . . . ", I've got more chance of seeing Shirley Henderson renting a copy of Vin Diesel's XxX in the local Blockbuster than I have of having a verbal sparring match with a chinless wonder from the local Conservative Association.

In the meantime, I would like to direct people to Vaux Populi, the election blog of Socialist Party members contesting the Vauxhall Parliamentary Constituency down in Sarf Lahndun. I wish I was there helping out with the leafletting etc etc. Going up and down the stairs on the William Bonney Estate is the best form of keep fit regime this side of you walking into a pub in the Old Kent Road and shouting in a loud voice: "Millwall supporters are a shower of wankers."

It's not just me that has been sidetracked during this election; have a read of the mammoth comment section of this post from Harry's Place. You just know the election is a non-event when Harry and chums need to stick the boot into Gorgeous George and his cohorts bleeds over into the Election period. The notion that whoever wins Bethnal Green and Bow would be some sort of watershed for the left beggars belief, as does Harry donning his rose tinted specs and havering on about the Communist Party's so-called glorious past in the East End.