Real life | 14 May 2015

The ‘I’m Voting For Chuka’ posters in my rich neighbours’ front windows pushed me over the edge. There is nothing so likely to galvanise one’s inner Tory than the sight of the biggest, poshest houses in the neighbourhood displaying left-wing conceitedness.

‘Of course they’re voting Labour, they’re the only ones who can afford to,’ said the builder (boy)friend, who had popped round to my house for supper. I know, I know. It’s confusing. But we are always going to be on-off, so everyone is going to just have to deal with it. And he is a beacon of common sense at election time, I can tell you. Just the sort of instinctive working-class right-winger you want around when the privileged lefties are marauding in the streets waving banners protesting about democracy when it delivers a result they don’t like.

Before the vote, he was wonderfully reassuring. I had been conflicted about this election, you may remember, because of HS2.