Three. Two. Two. One and a half. One. Er, go! The starting pistol has been fired on the General Election, making not so much a bang as the kind of faint yet hilarious sound of an elderly lady farting after Sunday lunch. (That's incidentally the same thing Ed Miliband's voice coach wrote about him after their first meeting, but I digress). But yes, it's election year. OK, it's only five months away, but it'll definitely feel like a year come May.
In fairness, it can't be easy trying to get people excited about politics in the UK, especially when you've got the likes of David Cameron and Nigel Farage ignoring you like you've just crawled out of Downton Abbey's servant's quarters to feed them dinner. Nigel sloshing his pint over your shoes as you try to avoid his gaze, just hoping he doesn't engage you in a conversation about how all his servants should be able to speak proper English.
These days, the only way I can get remotely excited about politics is by vividly imagining the day each party leader is forced out of their jobs, clutching pages of rejected expenses forms as they sadly walk through the door of their repossessed seconds homes, only to be greeted by a smug Russell Brand who hands them a copy of his latest self-indulgent book and kicks them up the "arsey-warse!" But that probably won't happen until at least November!
If for some reason a comedian most famous for phoning Manuel from Faulty Towers doesn't spark a political revolution, David Cameron may remain PM. He's a man who looks like someone has overinflated a balloon and given it an overbearing sense of privilege. I'm guessing that's not the first time Cameron has been described as overblown - but you'd probably have to ask his mates from Eton College about that one, or wait for his autobiography.
While at Oxford University, he joined the posh Bullingdon Club with George Osborne and Boris Johnson, making it the least desirable group of individuals in a building since Dapper Laugh's last gig. According to one newspaper, the initiation for a new member to the Club involved burning a £50 note in front of a beggar. I imagine the thought of doing something like that made Cameron sick to his stomach. After all, he'd never been near a poor person before.
Then there's George Osborne. He comes across like a haunted ventriloquist's dummy from an 80s horror film. That's a bit unfair - a lot of those dummies looked far more lifelike and capable of human emotion than George. He's a multimillionaire who tells the poor they need to spend more on taxes, which is a bit like the sea captain in Moby Dick asking the whale to hold still while he fetches his harpoon. And then charging him a harpoon tax!
George's real name is Gideon, but he apparently changed it for an easier life - because as the son of a 17th Baronet, he'd obviously overcome enough challenges and obstacles. Although most of those challenges came in his fencing club, and nearly all his obstacles could be hurdled by his horse. I did wonder if he hid his real name in case somebody said it backwards and he was summoned back to the Nethersphere. No such luck. I've tried it. Daily.
The opposition isn't much better. Although Ed Miliband's main opposition seems to be with his own reflection. He's like a reverse vampire, who instead of being unable to cast an image of himself casts one everywhere - and every single one of them makes him look like a tit. I'm always amazed when Ed Miliband talks in public - amazed that anyone thought it was a good idea to let him talk in public. The only person who thinks that's a good idea is David Cameron.
A lot of Ed's supporters say presentation isn't his strength. So thank goodness he's gone for one of those behind-the-scenes desk jobs. Being leader of a major political party and not being able to present is like a butcher being scared of meat, or being called Ed instead of David Miliband. Many people say this is all trivial because Ed is very clever. Well, I've seen him eat a bacon roll, and 'clever' wasn't the first thing that came to mind. I wouldn't even trust him to tie his own shoelaces without getting a nosebleed.
It seems the only certainty in this election is the Lib Dems being driven to the point of extinction, and all that will remain of them will be Nick Clegg's forced smile, which has now been fixed in place for four years. If you're wondering how to measure four years, just ask students with four years worth of tuition fees, thanks to Nick. I reckon it would now take all the money in the world to remove Nick's smile. Or to put it another way: the cost for one 18-year-old to study philosophy at the University of Bolton.
Those broken promises over tuition fees have left a bad smell for students. Fortunately, students own the majority of the world's Febreze, so it should die down to a faint musk. Experts say the Liberal Democrats have turned an entire generation of students off politics. That's doubly amazing, as usually the easiest way to turn a student on is to fain an interest in their politics. "Oh, I totally agree with your Marxist views. Shall we start dating then?" Classic.
I miss the old school Liberal Democrats. The ones with policies like providing free dream catchers for the elderly, painting night buses to look like zebras or pledging to change the national animal into a lethargic gibbon. Where did their ideals go? These days, they side with a man in David Cameron who says he wants to scrap the Human Rights Act. Although, in fairness to David, it has never applied to him, seeing as he's not technically human.
That just leaves Nigel Farage, a sentence that most people would like to hear over the loudspeaker when the Earth has been flooded and all the lifeboats have been filled.