Edge Of Our Seats, On A One-Seater

It’s Election Night tonight here in the UK. Even though, technically, it is now morning. I was planning to stay up until around 1.00am to see how things were turning out. It is now just gone midnight, and there are three results in.

Three. There is six hundred and forty seven results due in yet. I am that politically savvy I’m not even sure if I have got that figure right. And on the live tv coverage I have just heard that most scandalous of words used in connection to an election: shenanigans.

There appeared to be a higher then usual turnout where I live: double the turn out for the last election, claimed a woman working at the local poll station. Bottleneck and gridlock.

But now election fever is more election tepid-to-the-touch, and everybody else is in bed. “Stop mithering me,” said my wife, “and go back to your cheese boards.” 

She meant pie charts. But I think cheese boards is good, and I think that Labour may be in a pickle.

I’ve got the school run tomorrow, running the gauntlet of Friday-hyper kids. Think I’ll give it one more hour. Meet you at the gates. Let me know who won.

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