There is nothing quite like a general election. Even a dull one. First there’s the daily soap opera of dramas and tantrums, hyperbole and high dudgeon. Then there’s the voting itself, a privilege not afforded to very many in an increasingly fractious world.
The best part though has to be the afters. The St Stephen’s Day of democracy, when you lounge around on the couch bingeing on tasty leftovers. You get to watch the cruel art of politics play itself out, eating its young and discarding its old. On your very own 46-inch flatscreen.