Politics is show business for ugly people, so the saying goes. I couldn't possibly comment, but I've certainly had my fill of MP's and manifestos, kitten heels and curtain calls for a while. Well, at least until the next big vote.

 

As a freelancer, one of my jobs is producing local radio programmes for the BBC, and this election lark kept me very busy. I had to organise a debate with with five candidates and an audience of fifty. 

But no sooner had I re-organised my pencil case, than it was election night. And this was an even bigger job, calling for Sharpies. I needed to co-ordinate six reporters into a live programme between 1-6am. I can't remember the last time I stayed up a full 24 hours without a trace of alcohol in my bloodstream. My pallor took on the tone of white sliced bread and I began avoiding mirrors.

Adrenalin worked its magic though and coupled with a top team spirit, the building began to buzz. Phones were ringing, texts were pinging and tweets declared seats for left, right and centre. And there was food: Debs from the café came in especially to do a trolley dash through the newsroom with pork pies and pastries, and Mussy, one of the producer/presenters (aka The Office Feeder) brought in a vat of curry to help us push through until daybreak. 

Hours one and two were a breeze, but then it seemed every result in West Yorkshire came in at once and I had to ditch my dream of a mid-show masala. As the reds and blues merged on screens before my eyes, reporters rallied, statisticians tallied and by 6am parliament was hung.  

At 7am, as I caught my slumped reflection in the train window on the way home, I realised I had more in common with the candidates than I thought - as the saying goes, radio is really just television for ugly people.