Anarchy in the UK

Mrs Angry is not happy. And her head hurts.

Now look what's happened.

Grown men and women shamelessly selling themselves for the prize of taking the reigns of government of a country that didn't really want any of them in charge in the first place.

Another Tory council in Barnet. What were you thinking? God help us all.

The insufferable Brian Coleman being re elected by the cowardly and frankly unspeakably stupid electors of Totteridge.

Blogger Roger Tichborne failing to get elected in Mill Hill (I blame that smooth tongued, moustachioed ladies man Councillor John Hart, who has obviously been busy canvassing the Townswomens' Guild ...)

A new Tory MP - can't bring myself to write his name, except maybe on the envelope of a poison pen letter. Note to any policemen reading this : I am joking. Probably.

Can I bear it? The thought of seeing mean mouthed Michael Gove on tv again and again over the next five years.

The thought of seeing lardy Eric Pickles on tv again and again over the next five years.

Or the thought of maybe another general election in a few months time.


On the other hand - reasons to be cheerful:

The fun we had on Thursday night in counting the number of Labour ministers suddenly desperate to tell the BBC how badly the country needed 'stable government' and an urgent review of the electoral system.

The prospect of a hung parliament, rather than a landslide victory for Dave and chums, meaning for a while at least we might be spared the blitzkrieg of of Tory spending cuts.

Looking forward to seeing poor Nick Clegg playing the role of David Cameron's bitch, and the contortions of the Daily Mail as it prepares to get loved up with someone they have portrayed as more evil than Hitler, too posh for Posh Boy and secretly - oh dear - foreign.

More good news: I'm hugely relieved to see my local Labour councillors being returned to represent West Finchley ward: well done to all of you, and thanks again for all your help.

Nick Griffin's political 'career' coming to its natural conclusion.

Lembit Opik forced to get a real job.

Jacqui Smith being given the opportunity to spend a lot more time on the sofa with her husband, catching up on a few old dvds.

Watching a boat full of aging celebrities having an election night party on a boat on the Thames, courtesy of the BBC licence payers. Bruce Forsyth's' political commentary and incisive analysis was a defining moment in the night's events, wasn't it? Were you up for Joan Collins? Ben Kingsley, Maureen Lipman; the BBC really won the election night results show stakes, I have to say. If only that fool Dimbleby had not continually interrupted the fun with his tedious facts and figures, updates and declarations.

Mrs Angry, incidentally, is alarmed to find that she that she is developing a perverse and shameful passion for the evil genius that is Lord Mandelson. The older he gets, the more fabulous he is: cool, masterful and terrifying ... The way he licks his lip dartingly, with the tip of his tongue, like a lizard. (Do you think he has ever caught a fly? )The way he keeps his head perfectly still at all times. The quiet menace of his speech. The unspoken threats. The smell of sulphur and brimstone. How sexy is he? Peter Mandelson, or Councillor John Hart? Councillor John Hart or Peter Mandelson? Hmmm.

If anything good came out of this election, however, perhaps it was that the electors of this country suddenly realised that the right to vote should never be taken for granted. Footage of hundreds of disenfranchised voters locked out of polling stations in a British election in the twenty first century surely served to remind us all of the fragility of the democratic process, and the huge obligation on all of us to exercise that right, and ensure that our governments and local authorities manage this process to the best of their abilities.

Anyway: got to go - apparently there's a man at the front door wanting to know if anyone wants to form a government ...