Stile and substance

It's remarkable how quickly the bum adapts to the strange decision to perch your entire body weight on the two pointy bits of the ischium. The first sit today was a bit <Frankie Howard>ooh missus!</Frankie> but within a couple of minutes it was all forgotten.

Another quick deviation off the path at the top of Cardiac Hill, near the 'arse' tree, takes you to a few of these - stiles to nowhere. No fence or wall for them to cross and well-worn paths running right alongside. I thought, there's an election metaphor to be drawn here, something about style eventually being bypassed because of its own purposelessness. Couldn't think of a pithy and amusing way to express it though. Anyway, it would risk prematurely assuming that even though it looks like the wheels have come off the Tory campaign, that they can't somehow repackage their Big Society hot air well enough to convince just enough people to give them just enough seats to form some sort of government.

Who would have thought at the start of the election campaign that it would all hinge on debates? That Cameron would unravel just at the point where he'd been placed centre stage, flanked by Clegg and Brown. Whatever happens tonight, the symbolism of the positioning of the leaders will have an effect. The rotation of that centre spot will see Cameron sidelined and, tonight, Clegg promoted to centre stage. In a way, it's great that it's Clegg in the middle. It will send an unintended message that Cameron has been demoted in response to Clegg's win at the first deabte.

Must find a pub to watch it in tonight. I'm hoping to see the continued crumbling of the vaccuous and increasingly nasty Tory campaign in the face of ... well, anything really.