The secret diary of an MP: Where’s the swank in launching our manifesto in Swindon?

A candidate running for re-election continues his anonymous weekly column, as he deals with a leaflet crisis and election bribery

This week the first of my two election leaflets have begun to drop across the constituency, courtesy of Royal Mail. But as sudden as the crash of thunder which opens Shakespeare’s Tempest, disaster strikes.

I attend an evening event in my constituency which is in a different local government district only to discover that no one there has received any literature at all.

Crisis! A third of my constituents seem to have been left off the mailing list.

My agent urgently buys me a Chilean merlot to calm me down. This is not good news. I tell my agent this has got to be sorted and fast. We will need to contact the printers urgently. How could this happen?

My phone vibrates. It is my whip so I answer. He gently asks whether I would mind awfully being prepared to help out in an adjoining constituency. I tell him to sod off and slam down the phone.

My mood is not improved by a trip into the town centre. Ukip are in the market square with a little stand and a pretty purple and yellow umbrella handing out leaflets. Some people are accepting them.

I glance across. The Ukip candidate doesn’t spot me, but then I see he is being helped by another man I know – Mr Chawdhary from the local newsagents. He quickly looks away. Could he have been embarrassed? He is an enigma to me. Does he too love the past, hate the present, and fear for the future like so many other followers of Ukip?

Meanwhile, nationally this has been the week of the manifesto launches. Labour launched its manifesto on Monday. The commentators say Ed Miliband spoke well though I still think he looks and sounds odd. His half-strangled cries of “I’m ready, I’m ready” were just strange.

I am disappointed with the location of the Conservative launch. It was in Swindon. It’s a nice town which I know well. But where’s the swank? Where’s the imagination? Surely Kensington & Chelsea or Ascot would have been more appropriate? Or perhaps it could have been done in one of those two-storey basements they are so fond of in Chelsea.

I have not yet met anyone though – including myself – who has read a manifesto from cover to cover, though Nigel Farage claims he has.

But these launches are important as the meejah cover them and distil the detail. Last week I likened the election campaign to two giant sumo wrestlers ineffectually bouncing off each other. All the parties hope that their manifesto will provide the big breakthrough. I shall resist First World War analogies. At least this time we know it will all be over by 8 May.

Or will it?

Back in the constituency, I attend a meeting of my local Council Group – local councillors and candidates who are of my party. On 7 May, I can not only vote for myself, but also for three district councillors and four parish councillors. This multiple election means I probably won’t know my result until breakfast on 8 May. I address my councillors and wish them all the luck and say I am available to campaign with them if they want me. I am relieved that no one says “That won’t be necessary, thank you very much”. I think they believe I am an electoral asset. Like all MPs, I like to be liked.

Afterwards, the council leader and I, together with some other councillors, go to a local pub. I am about to buy a round when I remember that the law is very clear on this. I am not allowed to “treat” at election time. A Ukip candidate has already been interviewed by the police for providing sausage rolls. But ignorance of the law is no excuse. Nor forgetfulness: so I rapidly withdraw my offer and say I will buy my own drink. In the event, a councillor buys me one. “This can save me money,” I think as I down the amber nectar.

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