Election Special: 7 Reasons I Managed To Stay Up All Night
Yesterday, there was a general election. You may have noticed. The results came in over night. I was there. Throughout. This is how I did it.
10:00pm. So we have an Exit Poll – which it turns out is very different from an exit pole. It’s going to be Hung Parliament time. I can hardly contain myself. So I don’t and have a biscuit. Ten minutes into the programme and the BBC have a screen fail. Unfortunately, there was no screen fail while Dorothy was walking along the Yellow Brick Road. Or was it Jeremy Vine bouncing down Downing Street? Who cares. The BBC try and talk to Michael Gove. He’s mute. I don’t blame him. Jeremy Paxman is asking silly questions. Oh no, Gove has stopped being mute. And worse luck, so has Harriet Harman. I note her choice of nose this evening. I’m not sure why I note it, but I do. Some twats in Sunderland seem to think they are on Record Breakers. Tossers.
11.00pm. The first hour wasn’t too bad. I feel relatively fresh. Mind you, I am not usually in bed by this time anyway. Not that I need to share my bedroom habits with you. And I hope you don’t want to share yours with me. (But if you do we have an email address: email@example.com). I’ve got the munchies now. My fridge shouts sausages at me. Not literally. That would wake the neighbours. I ignore them anyway. Another biscuit. Labour are winning 1-0-0-0 by the way. Jeremy Vine is playing virtual dominoes. Esther Rantzen is on my screen. It brings back memories of Hearts Of Gold. In the meantime, Fiona Bruce seems to be finding everything absolutely hilarious. I don’t know why. This is boring.
Midnight. And we are into a new day. The day we get a new government. Or not. Ken Clarke just made me giggle. Some sly comment about Paxman cutting away from him to show Gordon Brown arrive at his count. David Cameron has gone to the pub. It’s 00:33. Late license? Blimey I need a drink. Stricnine ideally. Only three seats in so far. Why is it so slow? Eyelids beginning to feel a little heavy now. David Dimbleby is angry. Very angry. It’s a scandal apparently. I think he’s talking about people getting turned away from polling stations, but I am distracted by thoughts of him in the boardroom. Not in a dirty way. In a Sir Alan Sugar getting annoyed with the candidates way. I wonder what Sir Alan Sugar is doing tonight. Subbuteo is my guess. I used to love that game. Time for another biscuit.
1:00am. The Tories still haven’t won a seat, but boy they’re swinging hard. Mind you the Baltimore Orioles swing hard every year and look where that has got them in the AL East. I’m talking about baseball now. How did that happen? Oh yes, I was thinking about swinging. Cameron just stroked his wife’s bottom. Nice touch. I feel drunk. Which is odd considering I haven’t had a drink since Saturday night. I think I need to start now though. Twenty-three seats declared. David Blunkett has admitted defeat. I think he has fired off a bit too early to be honest. But as the camera won’t pan downwards, I’ll never be able to confirm this.
2:00am. And we’ve made it to 2am. The Tories have won some seats, Labour have won some more seats and the Lib Dems appear to be going backwards. Which is odd. Nick Robinson agrees with me. It is odd. But enough of this election nonsense, I am back on the tea. Not that I ever really left it. It’s just been a while since my last cup. Like forty minutes. Now I’m having a look at Twitter. There is a lot of hate out there isn’t there? My political views – and they are mainstream – make me anything ranging from a ‘deluded prick’ to a ****. I chuckle to myself heartily. The Sex Education Show is on Channel 4. I’m not watching it, I just pressed guide to see what else was on. Now someone’s talking Welsh. What’s the point?
3:00am. My freeview box wants to do a daily service update. Cameron wants to talk. Seeing as I watched Brown do his speech after he held on to his seat, I’ll give Cameron his moment. He doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about though. Fair enough, he hasn’t been to sleep for months. We’ve got a race to the first hundred on now. It’s neck and neck. Not anymore it’s not… oh, yes it is! No, it’s not! Yes, it is! I’m doing Murray Walker impressions. And The Tories win, win, win! Well that was fun. That’s kept me going for the last thirty-minutes. Now I’m screwed. I’m not going to survive another hour before we get to 200. Fiona Bruce is still high I see.
4:00am. And now I enter my 7th hour. Nick Clegg holds on to his seat. But he doesn’t look too happy. Maybe someone ate his Mars bar. That is just about the worst feeling ever. I have a headache now. Sleep deprivation beginning to bite. And now it’s raining. I wonder if the Tories need less seats under the Duckworth-Lewis system? I ask Marc. He doesn’t know. His cat thinks he knows though. Marc has been talking to his cat. I wish I had a cat. Would be so much more interesting than talking to myself. It’s definitely going to be a hung parliament then. In that case I’m going to bed. I leave the situation standing at 224-167-36-26. It’s been fun. No, actually, it hasn’t.