Saturday 3rd June 2017
Of course, the story today should really have been about the polls, which seem to have afflicted us all with a case of selective amnesia, as all our solemn vows about trusting the polls less than Satan himself appearing in front of us waving an envelope which he slithers contains the election results therein go out the window and everyone scans each poll that appears like a frenzied meercat bobbing up to stare at the screen.
The pollsters, meanwhile, seem to have decided to correct the problem of nearly all of them getting it wrong last year, by deciding to have some of them get it drastically wrong this year. They've managed to waver and meander up and down like a drunk weaving home the last few weeks, and now, finally, we've managed to end up, five days before the election, with one poll showing one point between the parties, and another showing twelve points.
Of course, it does turn out that the poll showing one point-Survation-has a) managed to get the worst sample in the world-saying that 72% watched the Friday night TV debate, when that would account to 19 million people, the highest since the amount that watched the 2012 Olympics-and b) they're the ones who managed to get the least accurate result in the 2015 election. So, it might need a bucketful of salt over it.
Of course, then, sometime around midnight, as I'm about to get Ben and Jerry's ice cream out the freezer, I flick through Twitter and find the words London Attacks, which sums up the rest of the night in two words.
I sit up through the night, watching it. It's the second time in two weeks. But we can't get used to it. If we get used to it, that would be the worst thing we could do.