Brown's gravy train in characteristic pose...

Tomorrow, I'm out with Mrs S bright and early, with JRT leaping around like a Dervish.

Our walk takes us right past the Polling Station, so while I take the dog, Mrs S will go in and nail that bloody bastard's coffin just once. Then we'll change places, and I'll do the same.

JRT doesn't have a vote, but she's a clever dog, and will skip and jump in anticipation all the way home. We'll probably chuck a few Coachies in her direction as well, just because tomorrow is the day we've waited for - the day all those corrupt, cheating, arrogant, Nulab sods get their come-uppance.

Then I'm off to London to meet a crowd of the sort of people who have suffered so much under the dreadful administration we've endured for all these years.

I will celebrate in advance, and when I return, the evening will be as long as it takes to see off the charlatans who have taken nearly ten years out of my career and my life.

And the icing on the cake will be seeing Ed Balls' face drop, but we'll have to wait and see how the astonishing number of undecideds deal with that.