THERE are plans for a Wirral Alice in Wonderland-styled trail this spring to encourage children to enjoy the literature of the Cheshire-born genius Lewis Carroll.

He wrote his Alice adventures in 1865.

Alas, we grown-ups are already on a trail reluctantly taking part in a surreal story now being played out in our media called Malice in Blunderland 150 years on.

It is on for the next 13 weeks (maybe longer).

And it is not a fantasy… Already politicians - national and local - are living in their own make-believe world where they hurl nasty, childish insults at each other.

On Westminster lawns all political parties are now playing crazy croquet in front of the cameras, hitting each other with respective rosette-coloured mallets.

Nearer home, councillors are falling down rabbit holes (and potholes) asking us to believe that they are the ones to guide us from austerity to prosperity.

There are plenty of White Rabbits running around with stopwatches shouting out that they are "Late, late for a very important date" to put their manifestos across - and submit their expense forms.

While the Cheshire fat cats are also smiling from their money trees.

Locally we have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (aka Phil Davies and Joe Anderson) two characters from the mysterious "Super Authority."

These tetchy twins of the same political ideology argue about having a metro mayor of Blunderworld.

Curiouser and curiouser.

And there’s many a dormant dormouse who wakes up when he or she hears it’s election time, then goes back to sleep when it’s all over.

After the general and local elections, we will have time to peer through the looking glass and reflect on all the malice aforethought we were subjected to, from one party leader to the next.

Will we end up with another coalition?

Or will a real Mad Hatter’s Party succeed in using all manner of surreal deals to get power at any costs?

We voters have the power to be like one of Lewis Carroll’s sharpest, unforgiving characters - the Queen of Hearts.

On May 7 let’s go on a chopping expedition to the polling booths and declare that for those who displease or fail to impress us there’s only one solution.

"Off with their heads."

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GRANT’S TV rant: Can the people who compile the Oxford dictionary please re-define the word celebrity?

It used to mean celebrated.

ITV's The Jump, a ski-based reality show, featured people I have never, ever heard of.

Producers had to pre-fix their "celebrity" names with the mantle "ex-star" of this or that, which clearly comes in handy when their agents get them panto work.

After I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, Edwina Currie had the audacity to take to the stage on the ludicrous National TV Awards when the show won an entertainment gong.

Anne Widdicombe is another attention-seeking former politician believing that she really is a national treasure currently appearing in Get Your Act Together.

If Edwina and Anne were that popular as politicians they would still be in that other "house of fun" - the Commons making a difference.

Now they prefer to be on Gogglebox rather than fight at the Ballot box.

Some famous politicians will lose their seats at the next election.

I dread a surge in politicians deciding to re–invent themselves as "celebrities."

Imagine Ed Balls and George Osborne presenting Pointless; Vince Cable – business guru presenting Flog It.

Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing retiring MP William Hague hosting a series he knows something about … The Antiques Road Show.

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UNDERCOVER Boss, the TV show, sees how work chiefs are operating as CEOs, emerging from ivory towers to visit the shop floor in disguise.

At the end of one UK edition recently, the boss of “Poundworld” told his boardroom that some of the staff felt “under-valued.”

Poetic justice…Indeed. Truth hurts.

Peter Grant