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The candidates, the postman and the letterbox

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I’ll be so glad when tomorrow arrives if only for the sake of my poor letterbox.  With our local MP Rachel Squire sadly passing away a few weeks ago my home town has been invaded by an army of wannabe politicians. They're fronted by a legion of leaflet wielding maniacs whose primary objective seems to centre around the force feeding of people’s front doors with election junk mail.

Our poor postman looks like he’s just got back from SAS selection week. He’s got the look of dejection so he must have failed. Our ‘thoughtful’ candidates seem to have gotten wind of his lack of success and given him an opportunity to boost his morale by combining his postal duties with the role of pavement artist. The past few days he’s been happily (or rather not happily) using the pavement as his creative canvas. His overburdened postbag has made a great impromptu brush as he uses it to weave intricate modernistic art trails all over the street.  While I’m sure all of this is  helping his new year’s resolution of regaining the buff body of his youth I kind of think he will be breathing a big sigh of relief after tomorrow (provided of course he still has any breath left in him). The thing you have to ask though is whether Mr. Postman has any cause for complaint? After all it’s got to make a refreshing change from delivering endless reams of corporate junk mail courtesy of ‘greats’ such as Capital One (is there a market for bulk selling ‘attractive’ Capital One inscribed pens on Ebay?), Lombard Bank and Over 50’s Plus (ehhh guys I’m only 38 and your subtle reminders that I’m creeping closer to the Golden Age isn’t exactly drawing me towards you). Well I suppose it would have made a refreshing change for the postie if it weren’t for the fact that he still has the ‘pleasure’ of carpet bombing that stuff into our homes too. What a great job!!
Anyway the postman has had enough ‘type time’ so I should return to my own personal rant through fear of showing an unhealthy stalker like attraction towards him. What makes me madder about all of this election spam is that the fact that I‘ve spent considerable time over the past few months rooting out the companies who have been regularly sending me junk so I can put a halt to them. I’ve even signed up with the Direct Marketing Association's Mailing Preference Service who bestow the gift of removing you from 95% of mailing lists (It’s a big help and I urge you all, if you haven’t done so already, to sign yourself up here).
Sadly the mighty MPS have been about as much use as candidate’s themselves as the speeding election juggernaut reaches full pace. The barrage has been relentless. Maybe it sounds like I just don’t like the idea of voting but that’s not the case. I’d love to go and do so but the fact is I can’t get out of my front door on account of the impassable paper drift blocking my way. Well OK I admit it isn’t quite that bad but come on how many times do I need to read the same ‘vote for X because’ message that in each mail drop has been cunningly re-crafted to look like a whole new political message? These leaflet designers and spin doctors really do have the incredibly useless talent of being able to deliver exactly the same message in so many unique and creative ways.
Hey I’ve got an idea let’s celebrate their ‘gift’ and go on a short journey of wonderment (in the unlikely event that you ARE still awake) as I share with you some of the high lolights of their envious craft.

Ok first up is Mr. Chapman and his SNP. Nice looking leaflets, emmm….quite good policies oh but wait a minute what’s this?!?.....

….Hill of Beath, Dunfermline. Hang on Hill of Beath is about 4 miles from me..it’s outside of Dunfermline so where do they think I live then. The funny thing is the SNP campaign office is less than a mile from my house so how can they make the mistake of  placing Hill of Beath right in the middle of Dunfermline. No sorry Mr. Chapman you plead for my vote but you can’t even spend the time printing the right address. I can just imagine the confusion that would reign at Royal Mail if you’d forgotten the postcode too..heaven forbid I may not have even got your mail in the first place. How sad that would be < -------irony!

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Next we have a couple of ingenious hand written flyers from the Liberal Democrats and the Labour Party. Now the Liberals one really had me fooled for a minute. No I wasn’t fooled into thinking that the candidate had sat down and lovingly penned individual hand written letters to everyone (the ‘printed by’ message running up the side of the page kind of gave that away). I was fooled because the envelope it came in was scribed with a hand written font and it made me sort it into my ‘may be worth reading pile’ totally bypassing the ‘direct to recycle bin’ mountain. Well done Mr. Rennie your ingenious plan worked…..for all of 2 minutes.

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Labour scores another creative point courtesy of a handy wallet size business type card. On the front is the candidate wearing her grin of desperate hope. Nothing out of the ordinary there but it’s when you flip over that the card’s ingeniousness comes into its own. Wow it’s a list of the candidates pledges and what they intend to do should they win the seat. Hey how handy is that? When I’m standing in the voting booth unclear of the policies that Labour have to

offer I can whip out my bite sized card …….instant clarity.

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So you’ll be pleased to hear that my rant has run its course. In the unlikely event that any of the MP’s whose badly photocopied faces I‘ve gotten to know over the past couple of weeks are reading this I’ve got this piece of election advice for you – if you really want my vote then the best method of winning it maybe to not bombard me into submission with your all so tempting promises of being able to single handedly change the world. Alternately it’s always going to be the silent non-assuming candidate that will get my vote. Why? Well it might just be that he/she is the only one who has given a thought about their campaign and not wantonly hacked down half of the Rain Forest in an attempt to appease their overinflated egos.

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