Blimey! @ No 10!

'Yes'. 'No'. 'Yes'. 'No'. 'Yes'. 'No'.

Blimey, I thought, it's worse than watching Wimbledon! I've seen Wimbledon on the tele and instead of watching the players, I like to watch the crowd. Heads look left. Heads look right. Heads look left ... You get the gist?

Well, here at No 10 it hasn't been balls flying over a net that caused the heads to turn. It was the thunderous tones of Boy David fairly shouting 'No', followed by Wailing Lad Clegg shouting 'Yes'.

I tell you, it fair made my head spin. I got so shaken up that I called Arturo, from No 11, to come and see. Then, what do you think? In pranced Georgy looking very pleased with himself. He fixed Wailing Lad with a long hard stare: "You lot are going to lose!" He almost sneered.

Clegg looked him straight in the eye and said: "Oh no, we won't! People are fed up with your lot getting their hands on safe seats." He stood up straight and looked very admirable, I thought.

So - now I understood what all this 'yes-ing' and 'no-ing' was all about. AV! That's what!

Do you want the old tried 'first past the post' system of voting? Or do you want to be fair and put your marker by several candidates in order of preference?

"What do you think, Arturo?" I whispered.

"Well, Butch, if you ask me would I like smoked salmon, cream of chicken or rat. I'd put smoked salmon as 1; rat as 2; cream chicken as 3. Then you and/or Larry would have your vote on the same menu. If all of us voted smoked salmon - that'd be fine. Smoked salmon it would be. If only 2 of us voted for smoked salmon - that would still be fine. But if each of us had a different top of the list - then there'd be trouble."

By then, my head was spinning. The thought of smoked salmon and cream chicken fair set my mouth watering. But then my reverie was broken by another man, called Huhne, coming in. He was very, very cross indeed with Boy David and Georgy. He said they didn't play fair!

I tell you - if they had been cats, their hair would have stood on end, their tails would be waving and they'd all be hissing. There'd surely be one big cat fight! But, they ain't cats! So, they just glared at each other, turned around and walked in different directions.

"They call this a coalition, Butch! Funny sort of coalition, if you ask me!"

I agreed. Dread to think how things will be when the result is known on Friday! No more yes-ing and no-ing but could be a whole lot of spitting and scratching!