This weekend we are heading out to my parents place to partake in activities which will hopefully assist my Mum to retain her seat on the local council.

Mum has been on the local council since Jesus played halfback for Nazareth. She has shared the chambers with quite the cast of characters over the years. A lot of them are god fearing, older men who share an uncanny resemblance to Santa. So she stands out like a sore thumb with her hot pink lippy and general compassion to the human race.

I have been assigned to kitchen duties with Aunty Lois, which means we will be making sandwiches all day and making use of the close proximity to the fridge, which will be stocked with a plethora of alcoholic refreshments.

The rest of TEAM MUM are on “handing out” duties. I am no longer allowed to be on “handing out” duties as I do not handle being spat on, being told to “FUCK OFF” or being told I am murdering trees, well.

Personally, I think Mum is a shoe in, but you cannot count your chickens until they have hatched. Like Barack, she has been pounding the pavements and working hard to secure votes. I was on the phone to her the other evening as she manned the Pre-Polling station. We were chatting about this and that and then all of a sudden I would hear “Vote for an independent….. “ before the conversation would recommence.

For years we have been questioning why she bothers. But the truth of the matter is, that is no one bothers then where would we be?

Run by right wing Santa type mini dictators. That’s where!

So wish TEAM MUM well, won’t you? And if she gets in, I will do Napoleon’s dance on Saturday night.