We have a hung parliament.
I’m not sure exactly what that means. I can only presume that all laws are in limbo until this gets sorted. Christopher says the traffic light is out near the Sainsbury’s roundabout and I notice that my post has yet to be delivered. I advise that we all stay in our houses until it’s safe again. If you venture out and come to danger, you will have no one to blame except yourself (especially if you didn’t vote).
From what I understand, after abandoning the traditional democratic route, our government may be decided via a technique most often employed in American high schools. Junior David Cameron was hoping to be Big Man on Campus yesterday. His plan was muddled by the pesky underclassmen (whom he’s doggedly tried to befriend in the last few weeks, despite the fact he clearly despises most of them since their parents work at his father’s factory and they neglect to wear school colours on pep rally days) when they refused to vote him a clear winner for Prom King. He’s now courting sophomore Nick Clegg, the nerd who is bound to come of age after this experience but first must wrestle with a moral dilemma (if this were a John Hughes film, he’d be played by Anthony Michael Hall), with a “big and open offer.” Nick Clegg’s playing coy (after all it was just weeks ago Cameron and his gang gave him a swirlie in the boys’ bathroom) but seems to be flirting with the idea. Former Prom King, senior Gordon Brown, is trying to stay cool. He thinks he’s taking the high road by giving them the go ahead to talk behind the bike sheds, but says he’ll be waiting when Clegg sees Cameron for the bully he really is. Cameron’s made the “I’ll–call–you” sign to Clegg, who hopefully will have time for a quick chat with an older and wiser friend who lived through a similar situation back when he was in Downing Street High.
How will it work out? Will the rich kid get the prize? Will the outsider make a difference? Will the old guard learn a lesson? And where is Molly Ringwald?
I’ll be keeping you up to date as I can, but I must confess I’m glad Dimbleby’s signed off for a bit. He’s clearly over tired. I didn’t like the way he reacted to the discussion of the election on blogs and Twitter. David, don’t mock something you clearly don’t understand. Get some sleep, my son. Things always seems clearer after a little kip.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
Agatha’s Public Chimes In