It Was The Signs Wot Won It

Forget the power of the tabloids. Reject the influence of radio and tv. Dismiss talk of media strategies and masochistic campaigning tactics. None of these won a single seat at the 2005 General Election because, ladies and gents, it was the signs wot won it.

There can be no doubt about it. My MP won his seat because of the erection of signs bearing his name. Lampposts were adorned with "Vote Labour" placards and "Vote ***** ********" (people weren't actually invited to vote for ***** ********, a faceless Millbank clone without a name, it is just that I have omitted the name to protect the innocent - and my job). Driving by these signs potential voters subliminally absorbed my MP’s name and, with these images lodged in the recesses of their inner cortex, decided to put a cross by the Labour Man on May 5. Oh yes.

I hope it was the signs wot won it because 'sign installation' was the hardy role I fulfilled in the closing days of the campaign. Manfully climbing a ladder, I paused to reflect on the political journey I'd undertaken from the heady, idealistic days of my youth...when everything seemed possible and Guinness was £1.80 a pint...(okay, it still is in the Commons bar). My hopes. My dreams. Had it come to this? Well, yes actually it had and I felt quite good doing it. Maybe it was the wolf-whistle directed at me, or more likely the "What's the fucking point in doing that? Fffuuck off" comment from one concerned citizen, but I soon stopped the indulgent thoughts to carry on with the rest of the signposting...

So that was the campaign for me. Some leafleting, some canvassing, some more leafleting, manning a Labour stall in the rain, waking a night-shift working policewoman and SNP supporter up during her sleep to discuss the finer points of Labour’s policies (she said she’d think about voting Labour now), climbing up ladders posting signs up, visiting pensioners groups and a school. Standing outside polling stations wearing a ‘Vote Labour You Ungrateful Bastards’ t-shirt. Attending the count and worrying that the Lib Dem pile was getting worryingly tall. Drinking Havana Rum to make the wait for the result a little bit less stressful.

That what’s I did in the election (minus the t-shirt slogan). It was tiring. It wasn’t always exciting, if it all. But it got the right result…and that’s what matters.

My MP got back in with his majority slashed but a win's a win's a win. Now all I’ve got to worry about is Southampton surviving in the Premiership….