Supermajority. Now I’ve heard that word 50 times it has lost all meaning.
It sounds like something I might clean the car with.
“The dog’s got mud all over the back seat again!” I might say.
“Just run the supermajority over it, I’ll fetch the extension cable,” could be the reply.
In the last days of campaigning, Rishi reduced his entire message into warning of a Labour “supermajority”.
What, precisely, were people supposed to do with that?
Vote Labour, if they had to, but just a little bit?
Vote Conservative even if they wanted the Tories out?
If Rishi was like the cryptic crossword, Starmer was Sudoku, staying well within the box and fretting over numbers.
Sunak cut a lone figure on the campaign trail, ending up in some bizarre photo ops that demanded to be turned into memes.
At one point he found himself face-to-face with the UK’s “most tattooed mum”.
What are the odds of that? Someone at Tory HQ might know.
Did Rishi want us to feel sorry for him?
He also revealed on This Morning that his favourite food is sandwiches.
Nothing fancy about that. In fact, it sounds slightly adorable and if memory serves, wasn’t sandwiches exactly what Joey from Friends said when asked the same question?
I’m beginning to wonder if the drowned rat debacle outside Number 10 in May was a deliberate ploy to make us feel sorry for him.
It’s a strange tactic for a party leader but then again so is bungee jumping.
I noticed the poor soul had to order himself a new powder blue cashmere jumper just to keep his spirits up.
While the Tories tied themselves in knots, everyone else tried to keep it simple.
I feared Labour had dumbed down too far when Angela Rayner stood in front of her battle bus emblazoned with metre-high letters saying “ANGE”.
Then she moved an inch to the right (haven’t they all) and revealed the word was in fact CHANGE.
It doesn’t matter either way because no-one ever cast a crucial vote based on the slogan on the side of a bus.
Oh, hang on…
The Lib Dem message appeared to be that a 58-year-old man can operate a hula hoop and a life-jacket, sometimes at the same time.
There’s no denying Sir Ed Davey campaigned hard for the job. It’s just not clear which job that was.
Something with Outward Bound perhaps?
He’s certainly game but there’s a golden retriever who goes paddle-boarding at the harbour where I live that would put him to shame.
Swinney ditched the suit
John Swinney attempted to become hip and interesting by wearing a navy T-shirt and turning the collar up on his bomber jacket.
SNP volunteers were given some inspiring words from their leader when he joined them out on the street.
He said: “I took my jacket off. It was so hot in Pollokshaws. But it’s always slightly cooler this side of Glasgow.”
Scintillating.
I don’t even think that was his jacket. He seemed to be constantly surprised when it didn’t have pockets.
I’ll say this for Rishi, you can tell he’s a dad of two young daughters.
Unlike so many politicians, he was genuinely capable of talking to children on their own level during a trip to a school at the start of the week.
He looked happier and more at ease than he has in months.
Chatting to eight-year-olds must have come as sweet relief from talking to fellow Tories.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked them, before confessing he had wanted to be a Jedi knight at their age.
I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation but I like to think it went along the lines of: “Between you and me I’ve had enough of this politics stuff.
“Why don’t we just sit here and make friendship bracelets and list Taylor Swift songs in order of our favourites?”
One little boy asked him what he wanted for Christmas to which Rishi replied: “Gosh, a day off.”
Now what is it they say about being careful what you wish for?
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