I have been out taking the pulse of the under klasses, the forgotten people, I had to prod a lot of them with a sharp stick to get a pulse.
I Sepent the evening and night at a local beauty spot at the back of the steal works between the two shunting yards and the main line.
Nestled in the bottom of the slag heap and clinker filed, the fishing pond.
A highly guarded secret turn left at the main gate and drive over the rails then straight at the side of the track for one mile, following the 10' x 10' signs saying this way to the pond.
The three mile drive to end up three hundred yards from my house because the old cattle tunnel we used has been filled in to stop some people using it as a short cut to get to Asda was un eventful.
The rainbow oil slicks floating on the ponds add to the ambience of the high powered off road bikes screaming past followed by south Yorks best constabulary, slowly lulls you in to that zen like state of monosyllabic Conversations.
"A up"
"Aw right"
"Iyyy"
" thi sen"
"Owt?"
"I........free"*
All this repartee with a paws of up to one hour in between utterances until I pull out my dripping sandwidge.
The anglers that come to a spot where the fish have ear defenders on and have to dive for cover as yet another drug mule off road bike comes flying down the bank are lets face it there to get away from her in doors.
Night fishing involves moving as little as possible as they are stretching the bladder envelope with cheap tins of larger thinking up new ways to fiddle the gas n electric.
A chap that can just have a dripping sandwidge when ever he wants and not answer the phone every ten minuets "yes love.....yes love... Just the lads..... Ok I will pick some up ont way home love" in a converted old plumbers van with 1980s day glow curtains, commands a hefty street cred.
Add in the fried haggis and egg sandwich for brake fast with mugs of tea dispensed from my patio door** all night
the pulse was "who gives a toss" in a labor safe seat when thy get twice the ballots of all the other runners put too, what's the point?
I might have my work cut out for me, the bit in the manifesto about brining back the rule of thumb went down well though.
*rotherham for three
** the sliding door on the old plumbers van