I HAD a dream …

Or was it a nightmare after months of mind numbing party political bore-casts?

I sleepwalked down to my local pub – The Last Chance Saloon – and dodged the battle buses in the car park.

Inside, all conversation stopped.

I was a strange voter in town just like Clint Eastwood (Cue The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme).

And then I saw them – the Magnificent Seven and their posse.

I was now reluctantly an extra in the 2015 re-make of Carry on Cowboy.

They all eyed me up as I played Suspicious Minds by Elvis Presley on the jukebox.

At the bar, a grinning Ed Miliband was sipping Diet Coke while arm-wrestling David Cameron.

Dave was taking a selfie of himself.

DC wondered when George Osborne was going to get a round in.

"We're all in this kitty together," he sighed, adding "and where are the token wives for our picture opportunities?" Spin doctors span in their cynically cordoned-off seats.

They all looked up at the wall- to-wall television monitors, fighting over the remote control.

Nicola Sturgeon offered Mr Ed a Scotch On the Rocks, which he declined.

He said, aided by a hidden megaphone: "I am standing my own round, er, ground."

Leanne Ward, wearing a Plaid Cymru outfit, ordered a Fiery Dragon cocktail and sang It's Not Unusual by Tom Jones, while Green party-goer Natalie Bennett decided to let her hair down – going for a sourced pure mineral water.

Nigel Farage, wearing a smart U-Kipper tie, regaled some tried and tested jokes and, stubbing out a cigar, asked: "Is there a stay-behind?"

Nick Clegg sat on the fence outside, liberally and democratically downing a non-alcoholic beer. “It doesn’t have any effect,” he wailed.

And over in the VIP corner, Boris Johnson was ordering more Moet Champers and a plate of Eton Mess from the dessert menu.

As I went to order a glass of a non-political whine the barman (on a zero hours contract) said out loud: "Hey, aren’t you an un-decided voter?"

The jukebox stopped.

They all came scrambling over to me.

Rosettes and flyers scattered on the saw-dust floor.

The Wirral Borough Council Local Government Darts Competition (without using dart boards) continued in the lounge unperturbed.

The comedian Russell Brand doing some stand up – quipped to any one who was listening that he had now converted to Labour A heckler turning blue shouted: "Where’s the punchline?"

Then I ran for the swing-door.

The politicians all followed me like zombies from Michael Jackson's Thriller.

But after stepping over a homeless person in the doorway (I gave him change for the forthcoming sleeping bag tax) I got on my horse and beat all the pushy politicians at the pass.

I then awoke in a cold sweat.

On Friday, at 6am, I will know if this will be a recurring dream.

**

IF Orville the Duck had stood for Parliament or Wirral Council I would have voted for him. There would have been no strings attached. He was quackers. But Orville never ducked issues.

Sadly, Keith Harris, his best pal, died this week.

He couldn't read or write (Keith – not Orville) and he was duly ripped off in his career by showbiz sharks.

I asked him about it once and he said: "My advice is to always read the small print with a friend – because I couldn't and paid the price." 

Now I want to know where will Orville go? Will the nappy-wearing duck meet Rod Hull’s Emu in a Puppet’s Rest Home?

How about the House of Lords?

**

AND finally… BACK to The Last Chance Saloon, here’s one for the road.

The Penguin Dictionary of Jokes has helped me through all the electioneering.

The funniest section is on politics.

I will leave you with this thought from legendary comedian W C Fields: "I never vote for anyone. I always vote against."

Peter Grant