Four separate paragraphs
Vanessa is coming back tomorrow and I really couldn't be more excited. If only I didn't have to go on radio first thing tomorrow morning I could get rid of my Paula Radcliffe need-to-stop-for-a-poo stomach and get on with fully enjoying the excitement of her imminent return. It's going to be an interesting experience having her and Tito-chan bedding down in our living room. Not least because that cat of ours is going to hassle the hell out of all of us now Milway can't lock him in the living room at 5am every morning (yes, he really does get up to shut him out rather than just shutting him in every night. And yes, Milo does sleep on our bed. And yes we are disgusting human beings. Even I look down on us.)
I was at the Baftas last night. *Check me*. Nothing particularly exciting to report, partly because even with my contact lenses in I'm too blind to actually see faces very clearly and partly because even if I can see the faces I'm terrible at recognising them. Even good friends of mine go unnoticed if they change their hair or wear different clothes. The same goes for names. In fact, it's remembering people in general that I have trouble with. It's a form of brain damage as far as I can tell. Either that or I'm just too self-absorbed to take proper note of others. One thing I did learn, though, was that I have an unhealthy obsession with comedians and news readers. I was beside myself with pant wetting joy (Paula again) when I ended up walking just a step in front of Eddie Izzard. Other men who get me all excitable (not always for lusty reasons, but then who knows what thoughts cross my frankly rather warped mind) included: Michael Palin, John Sergeant, Jon Snow, James McAvoy and David Tennant (obviously got a thing for scots as well). David Tennant was accosted by another woman at my table who took the opportunity, after insisting she had to interview him for her magazine, of cuddling up to him for a photo and putting her leg right in between his so she could get a feel of his sporren. I was sitting right behind them while all this was going on, spitting with jealousy and hiding behind my hair like a lovestruck teenager. She was mighty pleased with herself - and rightly so.
Apparently, I'm supposed to be voting Lib Dem. It looks like I'll be voting for them anyway, however. Despite the vast throng of Guardian readers on the trains every morning at Crystal Palace, Bromley is chock full of Conservatives (and UKIP voters) and Labour haven't a hope of getting in. Not that I partically want them to get in. Or any of them for that matter. They're all a bunch of wankers and, eco-twerp that I am, I'd rather be voting Green. Notice how I'm partly supportive of UKIP's policies. Not sure what happened there.
Your expected outcome: Labour
Your actual outcome:
|Liberal Democrat 74|
|UK Independence Party 6|
You should vote: Liberal Democrat
The LibDems take a strong stand against tax cuts and a strong one in favour of public services: they would make long-term residential care for the elderly free across the UK, and scrap university tuition fees. They are in favour of a ban on smoking in public places, but would relax laws on cannabis. They propose to change vehicle taxation to be based on usage rather than ownership.
Take the test at Who Should You Vote For