The blind man's labrador's witness

If the electorate were a Labrador, (a big if, if ever there was one) then it is a guide dog, a gentle and patient pilot to a uncertain political class, feeling its way into dark territory strewn with obstacles and quickly moving forces. The labrador represents the dumb yet not stupid electorate, that can only shove mutely and bark once every five years. The blind person however is confident of its superiority to the labrador and wants to change the result of the election in its favour. The electorate decided that there should not be an overall majority for any party, but a hung parliament, one that should regularly be called to account and have to trim its behaviour to the requirements of its neighbours.  Good doggy.But what the blind person wanted was a proper majority, a stable mandate that would mean it could ignore the concerns of others, and the consequences of the doggy's clear-sighted decision. So it changes the decision, by allocating a higher percentage of votes needed to dissolve the parliament resulting in exactly the opposite of what the doggy ordered. An untouchable majority. The trouble is that the doggy needs a shit now and then (I love metaphors. I can run and run with them.) When it does the blind man has to clear up the mess with a little poo sack, or risk standing in it. The dog will do this because it's a dog, and it poos in public. Whereas a blind man is blind, and has trouble locating and dealing with the poo. To find it he will have to bend over and sniff around, at which point he'll be mistaken for a dog with hilarious consequences, if the the guide dog happens to be on heat. And the blind man is wearing no trousers. Meanwhile, we can all watch in horror and amusement as the public repays the blind man in the wide-eyed gaze of the media. No really. Metaphors come true all the time

21st Century Politics. I'm spoofing my own ads.

We're now into the last few weeks of the campaign and I find myself writing ads for both sides. Helping out a Labour friend and candidate in a high profile seat with dispassionate advice and suggestions, while in my professional capacity, like a barrister defending a mad man, I slave over the Tories. The fact that there is so much spoof activity online is getting me into a psychological vortex. As much of my work finally sees the light of day in badly realised versions of their former selves, I find myself sitting in bed last Saturday, corrupting one of my own ads for the other side, then turning to address a hasty call from the office to churn out a crude mockery of another ad that ends up in the next day's Mail on Sunday. And with the most visible ads sometimes being the spoofs, it's now pointless distinguishing between the two. It's spoof-swirl. Luckily I have constructed a chinese wall that neatly bifurcates the professional and personal sides of my ad writing cerebellum so I'm alright for now. Nor do I spill secrets to the other side. Why not? well think about it logically. Take two possible motivations. Not to lose my job and not to act immorally. Both ends of the spectrum favour not being a double agent, therefore all points in between must do so too.