Our Man on the Campaign Trail...

Searing arguments over the very future of our nation. Dynamic election material which shakes off the bonds of apathy and drives a stake through the heart of cynicism. Posting leaflets.

Yep, posting leaflets. That's what I've been doing on the campaign trail so far and not a lot else. Posting thousands of leaflets. With my now ex-Member's face on it, details of Labour's economic successes and the almost obligatory posed piccie with Gordon Brown. A picture which is supposed to say 'look at your Labour candidate. He knows Gordon Brown. And look, he's actually talking to him about that blocked drain down your road.'

Campaign virgin that I am, I held vague notions before the campaign started that I'd be chewing the fat with party workers, discussing the issues of the day with the salt-of--earth people who make up the voters of the constituency, and fighting off political opponents in open steet battles...well, I thought I might be engaged in the first two anyway but I've seen precious little action so far.

Still, its gotta be done. And thousands of volunteers are doing the very same thing. So well done you and keep up the good work. Without you Labour wouldn't be able to win an election and thousands of grateful people would go without the material to line their cat's litter tray. So keep fighting the good fight.

Anyway. Enough of the preaching. I want to tell you about the ‘drama’ of my first week.

When I said I'd seen precious little action so far I was perhaps doing my self a disservice. On one of my leafletting expeditions I found myself subject to a potentially vicious attack. By a dog. I’d been leafleting in a run-down block of flats when the canine beast appeared from nowhere. At the time I thought the beast had jumped down from a hole in the ceiling but it must have been on the landing already - these heat-of-the-moment events can play tricks on your perception, your Honour - but, whatever, there was a dog and there was me and we weren’t bonding as Man and Master should.

You’ll be pleased to know that despite my fear I remained dedicated to the cause. I still managed to deliver the leaflets. Reaching over the dog – wow, he’s sooo brave – I deposited a leaflet in Flat No.3’s letterbox despite the aggressive barking (from the dog not the occupants of Flat No.3). The dog then, without any concern for the fundamental democratic right to expression, attacked me by biting at my jeans and jumping at me. Thankfully I managed to leg it out the block of flats and escape but I’m now paranoid that behind every door there lurks a dog determined to do me damage.

I’m sure many campaign helpers have had similar experiences – perhaps there should be a Campaigner’s Anonymous organisation for ‘victims’ to share their woes? – so I know I’m not alone. I shall stay strong. Remain brave. And make sure I take some dog biscuits with me next time.

It wasn’t all bad though. I put the dog down as a ‘Labour possible’ voter and was pleased his anger didn’t stem from intervention in Iraq…

I’m at a stall in the constituency at the weekend so maybe that will bring more worthy (and interesting) tales of human interaction my way. Rest assured that I shall keep you posted.