Someone rang the front doorbell yesterday afternoon.
Now this is unusual, as the only people who use the front door are the postman [if he has a parcel] and the meter reader. In true country tradition, everyone else calls around to the back door.
So I lightly tripped through the house [I was in a good mood for a change] with Penny at my heels and I opened the front door.
There was a bloke standing there with a bunch of leaflets with "Labour" written all over them. There was a woman hovering in the background standing in a large piece of dog shit. Did I ever mention that Penny loves to dump her loads directly on a line between the gate and the front door?
"Hello" says the bloke. "I'm hoping I can count on your vote for Labour next week?"
I hadn't said a word up to then so I thought that was a reasonable tactic and a good way to continue. I didn't flicker. I just stood there with a smile on my face staring at the bloke and he had to stand staring back at me. He looked very uncomfortable, which suited me fine.
After about thirty seconds of this he plucked up courage to ask if I had any questions. That was a foolish move.
"Indeed I do" says I cheerfully. "Can you tell me why the hell I should vote for you lot when you broke every fucking promise and cheerfully hopped into bed with another party? Why should I vote for you lot with your water charges, your property tax and your incessant nagging at me how I should lead my life? In fact, tell me why I should give a shit about you lot when you lot obviously couldn't give a shit about me?"
Bloke shifted very uncomfortably on his feet while I resumed my smiling stare.
"Er, um" says he. A few seconds passed. He [very] nervously held out a leaflet, which I ignored. "I can't persuade you then?" Boy but this lad was perceptive!
"Git" says I, "before I set the dog on yiz".
He gitted along with his companion. I noticed he stepped in another large turd in his haste. Penny places her dumps very strategically.
My good mood improved exponentially.