A Real Nightmare

If you haven't guessed by now, I am a student. Sadly, I can't change the time settings on this blog: I have no idea what the time is in PST - or whatever the time setting is. But nonetheless, it is my half term break. I use the phrase 'break' very loosely: this has been a break from hell. Ultimately, one can surely understand if I'm having a nightmare. But not one like this.

Well, this half term has been dreadful. As well as the now customary mountain of homework given to me, my father decided that now is the time to redecorate my room. Part of me is glad: I used to have a horrible greeny-yellow wallpaper. But that's OK: the paint just has to be finished now. A colour that Homebase call 'azure' (whatever that is), with 'silk emulsion'. I still have no idea. But that is fine - but this week has been dreadful for the following reasons.

On the evening of Monday 17 February, Microsoft released an update for Windows. The update must have a bug in it, for it broke ALL the computers I have.

Despite technological experts, one is in a state of disrepair. The other one is password-protected due to a fault (we didn't set it to be password-protected but the update has forced it to be so) - and we don't know the password.

Consequently, I'm currently speaking to you from a crummy 7'' tablet my mother owns, whilst listening to 'Diva' by Dana International and watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? on a television channel called Challenge - which is the best thing since sliced bread (it broadcasts game shows!). I haven't got a clue in which US state Saint Augustine is, so I, like this contestant, would gladly take one hundred and twenty five thousand pounds! 

Anyway, I didn't come here to go on and on about US states and female authors and whether the correct term for someone against increasing the powers of the EU is a eurosceptic, a eurostar, a eurotrash, or a eurovision. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. And squeezing this between the mountain of homework given to me...

Anyway, this strange dream I had... where to begin?

As my room is being redecorated, I'm sleeping with my brother (and all of you disgusting perverts can get that thought of your heads NOW), and I have a dream about the next general election.

David Dimbleby introduces the election night, with very badly airbrushed pictures of Ed Miliband, David Cameron, Nick Clegg, and Nigel Farage standing side by side by side by side. Then he introduces Jeremy Vine swinging his swingometer. (I've just thought about using a pun on 'Vine' and 'swinging', but I'm not clever enough to think of one.) Then Andrew Neil and Andrew Marr get shoehorned in, Peter Kellener is added as an afterthought, the Formula One commentator Ben Edwards is also there. I don't know why, the BBC tend to do use gimmicks on election nights: in 2005, they had people spray-painting a map of the UK in the colours won by each constituency. Attempting not to go over the lines on Sunderland South and other extremely urban constituencies was a bit of a disaster. In 2010, they had Andrew Neil interviewing, of all people, Piers Morgan and Bruce Forsyth on a boat next to the London Eye,the latter seeming not to give two hoots about the election. So I have no idea what Ben Edwards is doing there. And then David Dimbleby introduces Emily Maitlis and Nick Robinson, attempting to hide the frustration of a night with Nick Robinson, which would drive anyone mad!

Anyhow, in my version of reality, I am sitting on my sofa with 15 cans of Red Bull and 29 cups of coffee ready to drink in emergency, bearing in mind I hate both of them. Dimbers gives us an exit poll at 22:00 which appears to have gone slightly wrong as it shows UKIP on 631 (+631), Labour on 0 (-258), the Conservatives on 0 (-306), the Liberal Democrats on 0 (-57), and the others on 19 (-10). Nick Robinson dismisses it as rubbish, Jeremy Vine runs out of swing, and Peter Kellener is stunned into silence.

Right then - according to Mr Dimbleby - Houghton and Sunderland South should be first to declare. As always, the swing here will be important, just as it will in the 631 constituencies where the main parties are standing (650 - Speaker's seat - Northern Ireland = 631). 

At 22:41, Houghton and Sunderland South declares with a 7% swing to Labour. UKIP are nowhere. "Well," says Nick Robinson, "What an interesting result. Let's wait and see."

Sunderland Central declares. 7% swing to Labour. UKIP nowhere. This pattern continues for the North East. Result after result goes to Labour. UKIP make gains in the Conservative heartlands. The Liberal Democrats are able to concentrate their votes and monopolise Cornwall and Devon. Making facial gestures at home very similar to those made by defeated Conservative candidates in 1997, I begin to look up one-way plane tickets to Sweden.

It's now, on election night, 4am - and the one result I was desperate to see is coming through. Harrow West. After 17 recounts, this seat finally declares - and Gareth Thomas is ousted after 18 years. Hannah David, a very nice woman comes in. Hannah David wins by just two votes from Gaeth Thomas for the Conservatives. UKIP take third.

But I watch Ed Miliband stumble over his words in Downing Street, with the Ed Balls clown back there - and reading in the papers that he attempted to steal from Buckingham Palace, Ed Miliband walks in to Downing Street - and I wake up. My brother's just switched the lights on. He does this sort of thing. I promptly turn out the lights again. (The political know-alls who read this blog can probably see where this is going.)

Fortunately, you can stop it. By voting for David Cameron at the next general election, you can stop Ed Miliband from winning. A vote for UKIP is a vote for Labour. A vote for the Liberal Democrats is a vote for Labour. But if Miliband wins, I WILL be getting on that plane to Sweden - and will the last person to leave please turnout the lights?