Let the great General Election race begin.

Let the great General Election begin.

They're under starters orders and they're off. Everybody knows what's happening don't they? The runners and riders look fitter and stronger than ever before. Those well bred thoroughbreds are champing at the bit and ready to bombard the British public with an artillery of arrogance, a bombardment of brashness and a whole load of pomposity.

Oh I can hardly wait. The General Election in Britain may be over a month away now but you can still hear the political battalions stampeding through our market towns, pleading pathetically for your votes, grasping at every adjective, proverb and cliche they can possibly think of and then thrusting their face in front of a TV news camera with the most appalling grin on their faces.

Yes everybody its time for that well crafted repertoire of words and phrases normally associated with politicians come General Election time. Even now the vocal chords are being oiled, the babies in mothers arms will do their utmost to avoid any politician and those orange crates of Britain will have to be ready for a terrible buffeting. Be prepared orange crates you're about to be crushed by the feet of Conservative, Labour and Lib Dem feet. I can almost share your terrified trepidation because I'm not sure whether you'll be able to take seven or eight weeks of constant shouting, bawling and wailing from our friendly members of Parliament.

Where are we so far? Theresa May, although a non smoker, could be forgiven for thinking that it's all over for Labour as she lights up her cigar, lounges in her chaise longue, sips a drop of brandy or two and just relaxes. This has got to be the easiest, worry free, hassle free, untroubled run in to any General Election. May will look across London from her Downing Street window, smiling broadly, rubbing her hands with presumptuous glee and counting down the days to one of politics greatest of all coronations.

May, a vicar's daughter, is such an overwhelming odds on favourite to beat Labour's Jeremy Corbyn that maybe the bookies may have stopped taking bets. We all know what happened in America when the underdog wagged its tail. Donald Trump just blasted his way to prominence, snarling and growling ferociously to victory and after 100 days of his presidency he probably thinks this Presidency gig is the best thing sliced bread. But there the similarity ends.

The whole of Britain will give Theresa May the ultimate endorsement and now seems certain to give Jeremy Corbyn the bloodiest nose in the history of General Elections. There are victories and there are humiliations and if Corbyn has got any sense he'd do well to have an early night. It could be a very nasty night for the Labour leader.  Already the big guns are firing off their bullets and the snide remarks are mounting by the second, minute, week and month. The missiles are about to be launched and Corbyn may need the service of a nuclear bunker just to avoid the fall out and shrapnel.

Eventually the British electorate will become so heartily sick and tired of these tedious soundbites and pitiful platitudes that some of us may have to lock ourselves in a dark room well away from the maddening chattering, the mindless maelstrom of endless campaigning and those forgettably childish insults.

What is it about General Elections that they can so naturally generate both hot air, silly jabbering and the kind of nonsensical promises that may have been uttered for at least the 250th time in the past month? But here we are on the verge of a General Election and the opposition is so fragile that rather like a village fete tent, it may be blown away in a gust of wind never to be seen again. There will never be a General Election night like it. The holes and deficiencies in Labour's campaign will become farcically obvious and even Corbyn's most loyal aides may be telling him to wave the white flag now.

The Labour Party are rather like some very wounded animal if not fatally wounded animal licking its wounds and cowering away in the corner, a pale and gaunt figure that will simply rot away. In a way this is what happened to the Labour Party after the hapless Michael Foot almost melted into the wilderness with that shabby duffel coat and his faithful dog.

Now though circumstances have dictated that over 35 years later history has come back to haunt Labour mercilessly. In fact it's bitten Labour so painfully on the legs that you can still see the scars. After those prosperous years under Tony Blair as Prime Minister, Labour have been punctured by a torpedo and are about to sink under the waves. The decline is horribly alarming to those long term Labour devotees who can only hope for a large slice of damage limitation.

If you were to believe all the reports the Conservative party hold such a commanding lead in the polls that Labour may just as well be invisible. When Neil Kinnock was blundering and stumbling towards defeat to a rampant Margaret Thatcher, the whole of the Labour party suddenly fell into a such a state of immobility and stagnation that some of us felt genuinely sorry for them. Kinnock plunged into the darkness like a man whose living room lights had just been abruptly switched off.

The problem for Jeremy Corbyn now is that his complete lack of any popularity may never be retrieved, at least for the foreseeable future. At least Mrs Thatcher, for all her faults and foibles, good points and wholesome qualities, still had the decency to leave Downing Street when her Cabinet told her to even when she was tearfully reluctant to do so. But now the political landscape has just changed out of all recognition.

There are new poliitcal heavyweight alternatives on the block. They may not be sufficiently threatening as such to challenge Theresa May but they are biting and they will make noises. In one corner there's the persistently eloquent Nicola Sturgeon who keeps nagging the British government for another referendum in Scotland and won't let it drop. This is one woman who refuses to accept the inevitable status quo which is probably where Thatcher came in.

Now the Lib Dem leader Tim Farron is trying desperately to defend himself against his stance on gay sex. Now, I may have missed something but, of all the most pressing and important issues that should be discussed before a General Election gay sex doesn't seem to bear any relevance to anybody. The whole moral tone of this election is descending rapidly towards a brick wall and gay sex seems like the kind of subject you'd expect to hear in a sixth form school class.

So what about the Lib Dems? It does seem like a rhetorical question because none of us can understand why they keep taking part in the General Election when we all know that most of us have got more chance of winning. It's a dreadful shame because they do mean well and they are well intentioned. But if anybody expects them to even come close to Downing Street triumph then forget it. You can almost smell the gallantry, the heroism and valour. Of course the Lib Dems will finish third or maybe fourth because now UKIP are breathing down everybody's neck. Somebody ought to mint a special medal for the Lib Dems because they're always generous runners up.

So what of UKIP? Any political party that would choose to be referred to by their initials has to be taken as a credible force. Maybe UKIP feel as though those initials give them a certain status and clout. There is a clear emphasis and clarity about UKIP as opposed to the United Kingdom Independence Party which will probably take half an hour to write on our Election voting slip although it'll probably get you 5,362 on a Scrabble board.

Anyway let the good times roll Britain. Your politicians are asking for your vote in a General Election and you might as well join in because we've all done this a thousand times before. It's believed that if it rains on General Election day then Labour might win or maybe that's just something I heard on hearsay. So everybody Thursday is the day and Thursday is General Election day. It's time to clear your diaries, forget about the washing and cleaning, forget about the daily chores and just vote for your country. In fact you may want to stay up all night and watch David Dimbleby just drop off to sleep. This could be the most riveting TV programme of all time. I've already set my clock.