Will those politicians leave us alone?

Will those politicians leave us alone.

Sooner rather than later those politicians will drive us completely mad. The sooner the General Election is over the better we'll all be. I'm convinced that Theresa May announced a General Election deliberately knowing full well that her Labour counterpart Jeremy Corbyn would have more chance of landing on the Moon than becoming the next British Prime Minister. This is neither a cunning plan nor is it a conspiracy because she must know privately that this Election is all sewn up and nobody can possibly dislodge her or even remotely challenge her credentials.

But here we are now and I don't know about you but this whole period leading up to June 8th may well become the most insufferable, intolerable, boring and quite frankly excruciatingly unbearable month of our lives. Every night we'll be subjected to nothing but party political broadcasts on behalf of everything and everybody ranging from the Monster Raving Loony Party to the Save our Hedgehogs party while not forgetting the conventional Ban the Bomb party and the Don't Demolish Battersea Power Station party or the We love Big Ben party. It's all getting rather silly, personal, childish and vindictive.

Some of us are beginning to dread those incredibly dull party political broadcasts where the Tories, the Labour Party and the Lib Dems make those saccharine sweet appeals to our heart and plead with us to vote for them because if you do vote for them every day will be like your birthday, Christmas Day and we'll all wake up to the sound of church bells, the sky will be permanently blue and the sun will shine for ever more. The chances are that we'll all be allowed to run through sun lit cornfields, organise spontaneous street parties and then wave as many patriotic Union Jack flags as we want without feeling guilty.

The trouble is though that for the next month or so those bleating, wailing, desperately imploring, heckling and hectoring politicians will walk the streets and roads of Britain with those ridiculous rosettes in their jacket lapels and we'll all have to look vaguely interested even if we're not. You can bet your life that at some point babies will be cuddled affectionately, sickeningly sycophantic smiles and grins will light up the faces of these persistent party political leaders and we may have to switch off our TV at the same time because we've just had enough. This could be called simultaneous indifference or why do you have to keep standing on our doorstep because you're blocking my pathway. Soon the public will just have to make allowances for this collective snoozefest.

Even yesterday an understandably angry gentleman collared the one and only Tim Farron, the Lib Dem leader and poured out his justifiable grievances. As a grandfather the man confronted Farron and a blizzard of fury swept over the shocked Lib Dem leader. He wanted to know how the Lib Dems could live with their conscience because they were basically incompetent, they didn't know where the party stood on leaving Europe and why oh why was Farron still kidding himself that the Lib Dems had any chance at the General Election. It was wonderfully laughable but a brilliant snapshot of the public mindset at the moment.

But this is the way it's going so I suppose we might as well strap ourselves in, pretend it isn't happening and think of - I don't know- England or the cost of petrol, wind turbines, Maypole dancing  or maybe English jam or scones. Anything but party political broadcasts that are about as captivating as the Test Card or the Potters Wheel. What about the new cricket season or lacrosse, a spot of croquet perhaps or maybe the welcome tennis season in England. It has to be better than that mindless prattling or hellish harrumphing.

Still these are the facts. From now until that 8th day in June, the circus will come to our towns, men and women will jump onto market crates, grab hold of their ritualistic microphone and blast our ear drums with incessant shouting of the odds, tittle tattle, character assassination on a grand scale and enough insults and invective to last a life time. It'll all be very embarrassing and you suspect that even now hundreds of mothers across Britain are stocking up with protective blankets just to make sure that those politicians can't reach out and just press the flesh of their babies. Where did that tradition come from I wonder?

Then the said party political party leaders will all confidently stand on their crates and launch into their blustering, blistering, nerve shredding and ear bleeding speeches. It may make for such uncomfortable watching that Britain, as a nation, may have to stuff our collective ears with cotton wool. This is going to be wallpaper TV and we may need to escape to another country. Then we'll discover that the French are having their elections so that puts paid to that idea.

On and on it'll go. From morning to night the nation will suffer in silence as gangs of well intentioned men and women will ring on doorbells, thrust a thousand fliers and pieces of paper into the hands of the great English public and then cheerfully whistle a tune down to the garden gate. How the British love a General Election, We set our clocks to it and yearn desperately for more and more. We can't get enough of them. They should be held every year at the same time without fail. And yet this can't be enjoyable, good for the soul or cathartic because nobody really looks forward to them if we're honest.

Still on a now daily basis the BBC News will faithfully relate market research figures, percentages, polls, soul destroying numbers and how Labour may well be wasting their time. They'll stand earnestly next to those lovely graphics that tell us everything we already knew for the 274th time this week. Oh dear I think the British public deserve a medal for their admirable tolerance and forbearance because this could reach the lowest common denominator or indeed scrape the bottom of the barrel. How I love cliches. Hold on this is party political broadcast season. It's renowned for its cliches.

I'm not sure I'm alone in thinking that these party political broadcasts are so cheesy and over sentimental that it could be that we're almost certainly being led up the garden path. How do you explain the thinking behind them? Do the advertising agencies really believe that the public are going to fall for all that relentless hype and petty point scoring?  Is the General Election a calculated attempt to just annoy and upset the country? It could be that this is all very cunning and premeditated, another chance to send us all to sleep for the next five weeks.

Every night though we're bound to be subjected to another diet of poverty in the inner cities, violence on the streets, murder and death in every corner of the land, an ailing economy, no jobs, Britain with its Brexit status and how the dustman always leave rubbish behind them. This, they are sure to tell us is, definitely the Tories fault or its Labour's fault or its the Lib Dems fault or it's the cat's fault or the budgies fault or the goldfish's fault. Come on somebody's got to take the rap.

If you were to believe some of our party leaders then the world is definitely going to hell in a handcart, the apocalypse is now and if you don't for vote for us then you'll have to suffer the consequences for your actions. These are vital, crucial and seminal times for Britain. This is emotional blackmail time for us because if truth be told many of us are sick to the back teeth of this teeth gnashing and anguished analysis. This is the season for painful sound bites, childish name calling and totally irresponsible behaviour, the kind of behaviour that rightly belongs in the playground.

So there you are my friends. Get ready for yet more verbal battlegrounds, smoke pouring prodigiously from politicians ears and a whole battery of Brexit, blah blah blathering, pointless posing and posturing and a whole load of recklessly misjudged promises. At the moment the whole of Britain is keeping its cool and biting its lip quite beautifully. But a nation can only take so much. How much longer can this seemingly interminable soundtrack go on for?

Come the 9th June though and we can all look away from the horrendous horror show that is General Election time and be re-assured that it only happens every four years. This time though there was no such luxury because Theresa May surprised us all with a snap election and she should have had the decency to tell us. But she's a good woman and I'm sure she didn't mean it. Maybe we should all go on walking holidays in Wales. Perhaps she needed to clear her head or maybe she needed an invigorating breath of fresh air. Or possibly she was just thinking of that euphoric day when Jeremy Corbyn just became history once and for all. It's General Election Time everybody. We should have one everyday.