‘Mili-what? Who’s he?’

‘Are all of these questions about politics love — because I’m really not political?’ Oh dear. I’ve just lost another respondent two minutes into a three-minute survey and the chances of achieving my hourly target, and therefore continuing my employment in pre-election polling, are receding fast.

Perhaps she didn’t hear my scripted preamble: ‘Could you spare a few minutes to take part in a survey on the upcoming general election?’ What sort of questions did she think I’d ask? ‘Do you think SamCam pulled off the midi-skirt?’

At least I can take pleasure in hearing a colleague struggle a few booths down. ‘No, not electrics madam, election.’ And then, a minute or so later — ‘No madam, nothing to do with electricity. I am not trying to sell you anything. Yes, I’m sure you are very satisfied with your current provider.’

Moments like this provide a little light relief from the monotony of a nine-hour shift in the airless, prefabricated building nestled on an industrial estate in one of Britain’s less salubrious commuter towns.

Most popular

Kate Andrews

Why has Trump backed down on tariffs?

There are 200 or so MDF cubicles squeezed into the space, each with a computer screen and a telephone headset. After a cursory ‘afternoon’ of ‘training’ (a couple of hours devoted to privacy agreements and injunctions to ‘sound cheerful’), we are let loose on the beleaguered inhabitants of key marginals, who are already sick to death of politics. Incidentally, the phones ring automatically, without pause, endlessly. As soon as one call ends, another comes in.

There are large colourful posters tacked around the room featuring the smiling face, name and party of each of the leaders. ‘Mili-what? Never heard of ’im,’ proclaimed one fresh-faced school-leaver. And for those who have perhaps only recently arrived from distant climes, a further notice helpfully informed us which two parties currently ‘shared’ (as they put it) leading the country.