And so, we're off. The Clear Blue Water Party is now up and running. Slowly. Wheezily. And taking frequent rests. I can feel the hand of history on me. And if it doesn't move, I'm involving the police. I look around at the other political parties, and I sneer. I make juvenile hand signals in their direction. It is clear that none of them are really exciting you, the informed public. And that's what you are. You may look in the mirror and see a bedraggled, physically drained husk absolutely brimming with deep-seated psychological issues, but you are indeed informed. Some of you, thanks to drugs and tags, are reformed. You're informed because you read The Journal. You're much more intelligent than the average bear. Our mighty organ ensures you should know what's what and who's who. It normally takes us around six months to tell you what's what, but within nine months we'll also make sure you know who's who. The trouble is then that you start forgetting. Certainly the names, if not the faces. So I suggest you write it all down. Cut out all the faces, and put names under them. Test yourself. Put pictures of three random columnists in your brand new picture book, and then put the right names under the appropriate photo. Which one is Bob? Which one is Denise? Which one is Willy? I know what you're thinking. Which one wears a cap? Anyway, back to the carefully woven plan. No more Willy. Now there's a motto for the parties to consider. You are the well-read, well-educated clever heads. You are likely to have already formed your opinion on the election outcome. You are the type to have already cogitated. And good luck to you, I say. Live and let live. You'll have formed your view after considering all the facts, and digested the different agendas - weighing them up against your own personally significant themes. I see you now, rocking slowly to and fro on your favourite chair, which disturbingly doesn't rock. I see you puffing on your pipe, which is full of bubbles. I see you being asked to move by the furniture salesman. So you try the beds. No, I see you are already ready to vote. You have your core values, and you're going to stay true to them. You're not going to be bribed by frippery. Even if it's frippery of the highest order. The best frippery that money could buy. Which is a shame, because frippery is right up our alley. The Clear Blue Water party has decided to simply bribe the public. The others are obviously doing the same. The Liberal Democrats are wooing the elderly. Those on the cusp of a care home. They're telling them it will all be free. I'm sorry for being cynical, but through life are we not reminded of two things. Firstly, Newcastle United will be going all out next season to put things right. Secondly, you get what you pay for. There are other things, like death is coming, but I'll leave that for another day. A day, obviously, by it's very nature, closer to death. Ironically. There's an easy way to see if you're reading a thick newspaper for thick readers. How often do the writers use the word ironically, entirely inappropriately. Start with the sports writers. These are usually not the sharpest of tools, but at The Journal we have giants. Look today, I bet ironically isn't used once (he laughs mischievously behind his hand. Damn those sport writers - that could have been me!) So, if the care home is free, how good is it going to be? I reckon it will be Spam, cardboard boxes to sleep in and worst of all, a television that only shows Channel 5. The Liberals are also targeting students. As we are, but we're using eggs. The Liberal Democrats are promising free university education here. We're in a different position to the Liberals, however, as they're a fringe party, who will never be held to account, whilst we're at the very heart of power. Well, just outside. But the door is open. The Tories are frightening everyone. The campaign seems to be based on Michael Howard appearing from under your bed and shouting BOO. Think about that for a moment, if you will. I'd check under the bed if I was you. Just imagine how you'd feel if you didn't, and he did. Now there's ironic. I think. If you want to String 'Em Up. If you're of The Country Is Going To The Dogs Brigade. Hang 'Em. Keep 'Em Out, And Lock Them Up, All Of Them, the Conservatives are your family. And, let's be fair, it's an attractive option. But just think of Mick under your bed. Labour eats fish and chips. I knew it wouldn't be long. Tony ordering fish and chips, therefore alienating Corbridge. Looking like it's the first time he's done it since - let's guess - the last election. And all the leaders like football. They're all normal. Like you and me. Next election they'll be showing off their Asbos. We're shortly going to unveil our full set of policies. They are inclusive. They are exclusive. They are yours. We do need a banner though, a theme. Labour has Forward, Not Back. Tony tells us he only goes one way. He doesn't have a reverse gear. Perhaps that's why he has so many accidents. Next week, we reveal all. Any suggestions? ********** Missing out on Pope Bobby And so we have a new Pope, Benedict, or Benny to his mates. I can't help feeling the Catholic Church missed a chance here to show how appropriate it is to the modern world. I felt the cardinals and the voting looked old-fashioned. I believe they should have opened the voting out to the public. Pope Idol. We, the Blessed Catholic Children, could have cast our vote for our favourites. It all could have been screened exclusively on that satellite channel, Monks and Motors. The cardinals, surprise, surprise, voted in one of their own. It's the absolute personification of an Old Boys' Club. We could have opened the contest out. The Gaffer doesn't have to be a cardinal, he just has to be a Catholic. I don't know if he's a Catholic, but I would have voted for Bobby Robson. Pope Bobby. It works for me. Perhaps he's too young. But next time he could be our man. | 
