Take that!

I am pleased that a Labour leaflet dropped through my letterbox yesterday which mentioned that our Tory candidate has actually zilch connection with the constituency, him being a Tory councillor in Kensington, where he obviously maintains his real home. This sort of leaflet is what used to be known in less enlightened times as ‘the crippler,’ delivered so late in the day that no time is left for your opponent to respond. Meantimes, the Mirror reports that former Tory Party chairperson Greg Hands has put out a leaflet which fails to mention in it anywhere at all that he is the Conservative Party candidate. He must be a shy Tory appealing to shy Tory voters. I wonder how much weight is placed by voters on leaflets. Not much I suspect, and since I don’t do ‘social’ media I have no idea how and to what effect people are being love bombed in that arena. But for party activists delivering leaflets is still a sacrosanct activity, a mode of connection with the physical being of the electorate. Of course, it’s only political nerds like me who actually relish picking up the promissory notes of paradise off the doormat. Having been chased away occasionally by gammon heads when out delivering leaflets myself, I have nothing but admiration for those deliverers who think their efforts will make a difference. It possibly can, but in elections you know that whatever you do it will not be enough, and much of your effort will go unnoticed by people who will always tell you ’we never see you round here.’