Thursday 2nd April

Yesterday the firing gun was supposed to have been fired as Mr. Cameron went to see the Queen and informed her that Parliament was dissolved and that a General Election would take place on May the Seventh (I wonder if she knew already).  And to paraphrase a famous poet you had to strain hard to even hear the whimper.  The gun may have been fired but all that came out was a flag with the word “Bang” on it.  This really is the strangest of elections.  It is as if the words have been well-rehearsed for years (maybe fixed term parliaments are a really bad idea) and no-one dare move away from the script and ad-lib.  Even ‘Hell, yeah’ may have been pre-determined.  The two main parties, terrified of alienating even their most loyal supporters, are literally preaching to the converted.  As in their own way are the LibDems (concentrating in winning only in the few seats they hold).  Ukip are desperate not to lose any more ground, their bandwagon having failed to roll is in danger of slipping back down the slope they so spectacularly climbed.  And even the SNP are suddenly being fearful that the opinion polls predicting a landslide in Scotland might be a tad precipitate.

We are hearing nothing new from anyone.  Labour banging on about the NHS and the Tories about the wonderful economic recovery.  I don’t think they will change any minds at all.  There are, as usual a large number of ‘undecided’ voters.  My guess is the vast majority of these will not decide to even vote at all, or know all along who they will vote for, or the whole campaign will pass them by and they will still be undecided.  Personally I decided five years ago who I would be voting for, along with about eighty percent of the population.  I will of course obsessively watch each day as the polls swing a couple of points one way or the other, but I will be surprised if they are much different from today.  It is almost like watching Formula 1, whoever is in pole is likely to win, barring an engine failure.  And it is only a massive gaffe that might, like a horrendous pile-up at turn one, spark any life into this moribund election.