Electoral Diary Of Reginald Horace – 8th April
On the campaign trail today. Set out my stall – in every sense – in the very centre of the city. Brother in law failed to make good his offer of a sturdy table, currently in disuse following the cancelled fete. A venerable decorating table sufficed.
Quite a trial keeping the patriotically-coloured balloons upright – would have been better to use helium, in hindsight. Decided to remove them altogether after a passer-by took note of the red balloons, and made an untoward comment about my cultural leanings. Less than an hour later, my wife had to restrain me, I admit, when one member of a tourist cabal asked me who I was collecting for. I had not followed at first – then realised what he meant.
Unfortunately, this was not the worst of it – one of them accosted me, and made a request which simply beggared belief. I am not as young as I once was, but I could work out on my own what the term ‘selfie-stick’ referred to; and I had no intention of holding somebody’s for them. Certainly not in public. That sort of thing may go on in foreign climes; but not here. I didn’t like to make a fuss, naturally; but we all know that one thing leads to another. ‘This is not Brussels,’ I replied; ‘I will do no such thing’. Regrettably, my wife differed on this point; and the resulting scene was positively mortifying. For once, I was glad the press were absent. The headlines can only be imagined. Decided to call it a day, at this point; rather than tempt fate. The whole incident demonstrates everything that is wrong with this country. It is certainly not what I pay my taxes for. If it is not against the law, then it should at least be considered unBritish.