“You’re just a fat Scottish waiter”

by Alex Knox (Manchester)

So, it’s an election year, and in just a few months the nation will reluctantly have to decide whether it’s Gordon or Dave for the top seat. There’s something of Ford Super Sunday about it.

Labour = Man United. The title holders: their recent domination under threat, their youth system failing, their debt growing, their linchpin gone.

Meanwhile the political pre-schoolers don’t want to pretend any more. They want to spend. Conservatives = Man City. This team of fresh-faced cash wielders seem to have it all: a new leader, a clear approach and a rapidly increasing support base. (I wonder why!)

Game preparation is hardly ideal for Labour. Tony Blair – gone, John Prescott – gone, Alastair Campbell – on loan at Burnley, and Alistair Darling – the Gary Neville of the team – still there somehow, but old, cumbersome, a liability and ready to be put down. It’s an ageing side, set up for damage limitation. Think more Stoke City (without the long throw) than Man United.

And what of the Tories? Their expectations dented for so long by a string of sub-par campaigns, and poor leadership. The likes of Glen Whelan, Stephen Jordan and Sun Jihai are nothing to the Hagues, Howards and Major disappointments that the Tory faithful have had to endure in the last decade or so. But now there is hope…

Dave ‘Gaffer’ Cameron: a pin-up for desperate middle-class housewives everywhere. Jealous husbands are drawn to him like moths, wondering just what it is that everyone seems to find so attractive.

And yet who could write off the wily Scot? The unwanted son of New Labour. Near universal loathing hasn’t hurt Sir Alex all these years. And if Carrick can hold things steady in midfield, then why not Lord Mandelson too? He proved in Cyprus what a superb anchorman he can be.

Labour may have gifted their opponents an early lead, but it’s football and anything can happen. It’s United 1-0 down to Munich; it’s Spurs 4-2 down at the Emirates; it’s Liverpool at half time in Istanbul. It’s the Tories in ‘92.
So, who won’t be able to keep their eye on the ball? Will anyone be able to bend it like Beckham, or is spin the best we can hope for? And ultimately, will it be Gordon or Dave singing along when Ann Widdecombe opens her lungs at the final whistle?