Two days to go before the British general election.

Two days to go before the British General Election.

There are two days to go and Britain can hardly contain its excitement. Forget the Queen's street parties, the colourful bunting, the endless supply of jam sandwiches and drink for the kids, the riotous celebrations across the country. On Thursday the nation goes to the polls for what could prove to be one of the most underwhelming General Elections of all time. Besides, we've all been here before. Undoubtedly, it's all been rather childish and comical. The contenders look much the same as they've always looked. It's all been very confrontational, bitter, resentful, personal and shamefully petty.

For the first time since 1923 the General Election will be held just in time for Jingle Bells, Ding Dong Merrily on High, Silent Night and I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas which is effectively what it feels like for most of us anyway. This time those unbearable politicians have got their timing all wrong. It must feel like a dreadful intrusion into our lives as the supermarket shelf stackers happily spread festive cheer and goodwill in their natty reindeer knitted pullovers.

Once again we'll all be emotionally blackmailed into marching off to our local church hall, school, leisure and community centre where voting for the next Government will feel compulsory. We'll be ordered to shuffle over to that secretive voting booth, ticking both the relevant candidates and choice of parties. We will then wonder why exactly we've carried out this most unenviable task. Besides, we are the ones who will be responsible for ensuring that who ever gets the chance to run the country, it probably won't make a jot of difference to our lives either way.

For the last couple of weeks Britain has been subjected to nothing but deplorable name calling, pathetic pleas and exhortations for our vote, passionate speeches about the same old subjects, venomous rants and above all hysterical outbursts laced with spite, insults and ludicrous accusations. They have faced each other in heated TV discussions, pointed fingers, jabbed fingers, harangued and heckled each other quite aggressively but never has there been a single pause for remorse after the event.

 In the blue corner one Boris Johnson the Prime Minister and proud Tory, committed perhaps one of the most unforgivable of all political sins. Visiting a fish market and then campaigning vigorously for your vote, Johnson seemed to tread on some rather delicate feet. He was grilled relentlessly by a persistent ITV reporter about a four year old child who'd been criminally neglected in a hospital ward, languishing on the floor and crying for help. But any expressions of sympathy for the youngster were not forthcoming and you could hardly believe what you were watching. Johnson grabbed the reporter's phone, planted it in his pocket and brazenly ignored the image in front of him.

At some bizarre point during the interview Johnson started rattling off all of those rather tedious promises and pledges, rolling off those incessant cliches about the NHS and then blundering his way through another succession of monotonous statistics. Johnson, perhaps mindful that he was simply digging a hole for himself, promised that the Tories would be bending over backwards to build hundreds of hospitals, educating millions of children so that they too could become eminent Old Etonians and then plunging billions and billions into his precious NHS once again.

If the last couple of weeks or so have taught us anything about our politicians it is that they are self obsessed, thoughtless, selfish and totally self absorbed. They tour both the factories of Britain, the high tech offices and the market stalls with a snooty and supercilious air totally disregarding the feeling on the ground and the people they expect to vote for them on Thursday. They trot out those pithy platitudes about getting Brexit done, paving the streets with gold and waving magic wands. As long as you back them. We will not be disappointed, that's for sure.

Here's the thing though. Boris Johnson, the man whose blond forest of hair has probably never seen a comb for the best part of three years, looks like the man who wants to lead his country into the promised land but then forgets the soundbites that he may have been expected to memorise on his cue cards. Of course he wants to do the decent thing for his Britain but there is a growing suspicion among many of us that perhaps he should pursue a career as a comedy script writer.

We know that he's an intellectual and we know he's written a book about Churchill. Of course he's an immensely assured linguist and polymath, a man capable of speaking a number of languages. And yet here is an Old Etonian with all the principles and values of an Old Etonian. There were the late,wild nights of wine, women and song or allegedly so. There were the disgraceful lapses in behaviour that might have been expected of an Etonian and the regrettable dabbling in drugs which they'd rather not dwell on if you don't mind. It is now that you realise who Boris Johnson is for better or worse.

Meanwhile in the red corner is one Jeremy Corbyn the leader of the opposition Labour party, the man in the margins and shadows lurking and loitering rather like some uninvited guest at a party. From the moment he was appointed leader of the Labour party Corbyn has been like a man on the run, a fugitive escaping from an extensive police hunt. At the moment the searchlights have shone in his face and blurred his vision.

Quite possibly the most despised politician in the history of British politics, Corbyn has spent the best part of three years desperately back tracking, denying the obvious, fending off violent anti Semitism and then retreating into his own world of visionary politics where everybody will feel a hundred times better under his style of Government. But then the ghosts of Christmas past may well come back to haunt him because the evidence is painfully incriminating.

Corbyn is rather like that convicted criminal who will do his utmost to protest his innocence because he'll never be forgiven if the truth does come out eventually. There were the occasions when Corbyn shared a platform with IRA leader and ringleader Gerry Adams, the nods of agreement in the company of notorious terrorists and then his alliance with Hamas, another motley mob of murderers who just hate Jews. But then Corbyn washes his hands of what he believes to be a terrible misunderstanding because why on earth would he want to be associated with such evil wickedness.

And last but not least there is the Liberal Democrats, a party so widely mocked by those in the know over the years that they hardly seem worthy of any mention. You have followed the Liberals over the years and you find yourself constantly wondering why they bother. They remain on the outside of the political mainstream because everybody can see that they lack the strength in numbers, charisma and personality of the other two. Some would have you believe that they lack the credibility factor so essential to any potential Prime Minister and you would have to say those cynics know what they're talking about.

For her personal campaign and crusade Jo Swinson has looked both presentable, agreeable, polite and genially well informed. But then you suddenly discover that for all her honourable intentions and vows to plant more trees if elected, Swinson is just another Liberal with a love of the environment, family and friends. Sadly, Swinson is just a peripheral figure, condemned to the sidelines, shoved out of the limelight unceremoniously because who would want to vote for the Lib Dems anyway.

So there we are Ladies and Gentlemen. These are the men and women who have been appointed as representatives of their party and ready to receive your vote on Thursday. Rumours persist that the contest is over and Jeremy Corbyn may just as well pack his suitcases for an early Christmas holiday in the Swiss Alps. Boris Johnson has got this one in the bag. The Tories have won this General Election by a hundred country miles quite emphatically. We know they will because Johnson has repeatedly told us over and over again.

It won't be a landslide victory because there has to be an element of doubt but Johnson, for all his burbling and eccentricities, is still the man for the big occasion. Then again it could be much closer than most of us would have anticipated. By early Friday morning though, we should know that there have been no recounts of votes and the Tories will finish the crossing line, triumphantly flinging their hands into the air and re-visiting the memories of Margaret Thatcher's waving from the window of Conservative headquarters.  You suspect that rather like his predecessor Johnson will not be doing any turning. It's full steam ahead for Brexit and all those cooking analogies, Boris.