Happy, happy, happy!

So, the election hoo-hah is over and I have to confess that my reaction to the whole circus is - gaaaaaaah!

I want to go and climb into bed for three weeks and not come out except to eat ice cream while staring off into the middle distance. Maybe I'll occasionally go to the toilet.

Our press and television media showed themselves to be the horrible, inept den of slimy shysters they are, trying to influence the outcome on behalf of their monstrous, unelected bosses in order to help them stuff sticky fistfuls of cash into their gobs, distending their bottom jaws like pelicans in grey suits.

You can bloody mention immigration! You bloody can!

No time to post at the moment, which is a right pain since we've been lurching from Clegg being laughably accused of saying we're worse than the Nazis to being told prematurely that Cameron has won the election to insinuations of domestic violence in the Clegg household to the Prime Minister mentioning in what he thought was private that a possibly bigoted woman was a bigot.  Fun times.

Maybe I'll do a run down of the campaign bullshit after the election, but I might be too busy pinwheeling my board with a nail in it in a frenzied fight to the death for the last tin of baked beans in the inevitable societal meltdown a hung parliament will cause.