Legging it

Spent two hours of my life (that I will never get back) watching the final address of the 11 candidates for the French presidential election. 

Only a sprinkle of them actually said something. And an even smaller number actually said something that I would tend to agree with.  
And none of them could remotely implement what they were talking about. None of the one I would tend to agree with, if pushed. 
So nothing new there. 

Except for the dangerous one. Very scary. 

I have a profound dislike for the muppet I am going to vote for. In an attempt to stop the one I abhor. 

Plan B is to leg it. Where to, I have no idea. I will just join the thousands of other headless chicken running around flapping their wings. Because we're fucked. Running around with headless chickens. 

I'll be good at it. The Mistake Factory has prepared me well.