I was out yesterday, and I noticed that the election posters have started growing in the hedgerows again.

We have the usual clatter of gobshites hoping to be elected in our area.  I don’t know where they come from but they are all as thick as each other.  We have the usual Fianna Fáilers, Fine Gaels, Labourites, Greens and Independents.  And Mad Miley.

They all promise the sun, moon and stars before an election.  Once the election is over, we never see them again apart from the odd postcard from Thailand or somewhere where they are supposed to be on a fact finding mission.  There isn’t one of them that I would piss on if he were on fire.  Except maybe Mad Miley.

Mad Miley stands in every election, whether it’s local, national, European or for membership of the Irish Countrywomen’s Association.  I admire him for his persistence.  His usual platform is for the repeal of the bestiality laws and equal rights for hamsters.  He’s a bit strange.  He always does very well in every election simply because people refuse to vote for the other candidates.  Unfortunately, he always seems to find some way of disqualifying himself, usually by failing to declare that he has done fifteen years in a mental institution and that he hasn’t got his discharge papers yet.

I like the election posters.  I like the way they are less prone to melt when there is rain.  You see, they make excellent targets for practice, and I can guarantee that within days, there will be banks of them up the top valleys, peppered with buckshot and bullet holes.  Of course, using election posters for targets has the added advantage of training us for when the real thing comes around.

My area is a five seat constituency, and usually there are between twenty and thirty candidates for those five seats.  By the time the election comes around, there are usually only five or six candidates left alive, which makes voting quite easy.  I suppose you could call it the ultimate democracy?  Nobody has the heart to take a pot shot at Mad Miley so he always lives to fail to be elected.

I suppose they will start knocking on doors soon?  I will let Herself deal with them.  She has been off the Prozac for the last two weeks since I hid the tablets, so she is raring to go.

I hid Sandy’s dog food too.

It should be fun.