All's fair in love and war

Or is it?

Sir Dave of the Cam visited us today. And by us I mean the royal ‘us’, here in Cornwall.

Visiting a local college in Saltash the Blue leader got a bit of a rude awakening when he was hit in the shoulder by a flying egg. Not just a random flying egg, you understand, but an egg thrown by one of our own – the future generation – the educated future generation – a student.


We all know that sometimes youngsters find it difficult to express themselves. We know they’re not just dealing with the big issues of the day like ‘should we pull our troops out of Afghanistan?’ or ‘how should we best pull the country out of economic meltdown?’ but with adding testosterone and growth hormones to the mix they’re dealing with ‘why doesn’t anybody like me?’ and ‘why can’t I get a girlfriend?’

We can perhaps, then, forgive a young man for not fighting with his brain, his wit, his worldly knowledge, but I think it is a sorry state of affairs when the egging season has become one to be expected in the run up to an election.

And shells off to Cam, he handled it like a grownup and laughed the whole thing off.
Until he got home where he probably slashed millions off the proposed education budgets. “That’ll teach em…”

Leader's Debate The de-brief

“You can’t airbrush your policies as you do you posters”. I wonder who came up with that one. Perhaps is was Gordon himself as he cracked into his soft boiled egg and soldiers the day before. Perhaps he ran it by someone: “Hey, Sarah, check this one out…” guffaw, guffaw.

The Leaders' Debate saw a lighter side to Mr Brown. And a tighter side to Mr Cameron as he twisted and writhed his way through questions most thought he’s sail through. But the winner of the night? The other guy, what’s his name again? Our new hero, Mr Clegg. My other half came in halfway through the debate – “who’s that guy?” he asked. No, he hasn’t got the most memorable of faces. But how he stood up to Brown and Cameron was one of the most glorious moments in modern British politics that I can remember.

“Mr Clegg will agree with me on this…” gloated Brown to Cameron. To which the Yellow’s Leader retorted “the more they attack each other, the more they sound the same” - POW. “We will stop putting money into the development of unnecessary trident missiles” – BIFF. Then he proposed a 10% tax on all bank profits – WHAM. Game, set and match.

Brown’s trump card remained the economic recovery – which he promised us lies entirely in implementing a job’s tax. Cameron claimed this is the very tax which will bring the economy back to its knees. Brown wants ID cards, ‘personal promises’ for NHS delivery and an elected and much reduced House of Lords (a few intakes of breaths from ze’ upper classes).

Cameron stuck to the Tory thirst for world domination, believing we need to continue funding trident missile development (in case we need it, you know, “in case of China”) but lots of money for the NHS. At the expense of other services perhaps. But if you ‘work hard’ and save £8k on retirement, you won’t have to pay for care in your old age. He didn't mention what happens if you’ve ‘worked hard’ bringing up children, ‘worked hard’ for charity or ‘worked hard’ and simply not been able to save up such a nest egg due to soaring taxes…

While Clegg chillaxed on the back of his heels with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, Brown smirked and gurned and Cameron fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. For a man with nothing to loose, Clegg stuck himself outside and beyond the Reds and Blues; better education (although my mother the Educational Psychologist claims smaller classes and one-on-one tuition only works for specific age groups – she’s vowed to write to him to let him know), more transparent policing, a peace-friendly foreign policy and above all ‘fairness’.

Thanks Nick. We think you did marvellously. As did the St Ives and Isles of Scilly constituency who were voting in their droves for their Blue man prior to last night but this morning nudged the Yellows into the lead. It’s going to be a terrific race to the finish, but one thing’s clear – a Lib Dem vote’s no longer a ‘wasted vote’.

Leaders' Debate

A lesson to Tweeting Candidates

It's always a shame to fall at the first hurdle. I'm feeling a bit sorry for 24 year old Labour candidate for Moray, Stuart MacLennan today. Did I say candidate? I meant ex-candidate.

The poor lad obviously wasn't told that when you tweet, well, the whole world can see what you're saying.

That includes your boss, Stu. you know, the Prime Minister?

Stuart reportedly referred to the youngserly-challenged as 'coffin dodgers', the financially challenged as 'chavs', swore (a lot) and reportedly complained when his train had no first class to offer him. Good Lord, old boy - no first class? Whatever did you do? Tuck into some scones and a Pimms to remind the rest of the world you were in cattle-class by accident?

I can't prove any of this, of course, because the poor lad had to close his account, in vain it appears, as this afternoon the Labour party dropped him quicker than Cameron's going to drop the ban on fox hunting (still remembering one of the best Sun headines ever when protestors stormed the Commons - it read 'For Fox Sake').

I just can't help but wonder if ole' Stu was batting for the wrong team. I mean, a first-class loving, elderly and lower class hating Labour candidate? Whatever next? A black BNP member?

How Wood you vote

Once upon a time there was a girl from Kent (and lives in Cornwall) who would have voted nothing but Labour. Then there was a war.

Now she wants to vote for the right party for her county and her country - not just for the party she was socialised to vote for.

Her quest might bring her right back to the beginning - settling for a vote for Brown. But could an honest, no-holds barred dive into the 2010 elections bring her closer to the Tories than she ever thought possible?

Exploring the major parties and the lesser known ones, this is Jo's Blog, asking 'how would you vote?'

The Fruit Budget

You know, it’s one thing that it cost me 119.9p a litre to put a couple of drops of unleaded in my car last night (it’s all I could afford) but now they’re telling me cider’s going up 10%. 10 bloody percent.

Now, I regard apples as one of my five a day. So where does this stand, Darling increasing the price of my being healthy?

If I was American I would simply sue his ass. But being British I’ll have a good old grumble on my blog and do nothing about it.

Facebook being the dear creature it is has reacted angrily, with over 200 determined networkers to declare ‘Fuck Alistair Darling - Let's all Binge Drink before the Budget!!!’

That’s if one can get served – the last time I went to buy some Ratler from Morrisons I got ID’d by what looked like a 12 year old. I’m 30 in June. It was all decidedly confusing. She had to call over her manager who was old enough to check my ID.

Anyway, I digress. It’s time, my dear Cornish friends (they only drink wine in London – I checked - a lot) to stock up. Stock up now, before it’s too late and Darling forces apples out of your diet. The bastard.

Gender definition

I just wanted to show off my blinds. They have no wordly right to be sitting here on this blog, apart to highlight the fact that no matter how far gender equality comes, there’s just no getting away from the fact that women are more drawn to some ‘crafts’ than men.

To my knowledge my bother’s never sat himself in front of a sewing machine and knocked up a cushion, or hemmed a curtain.

Anyhoo, here’s the somewhat wobbly result of a few good hours labour