Hi de Hi
A moment of shock and horror this morning as I broadcast to that portion of the astonished nation sufficiently alert to be listening to the wireless.
Shortly after wishing said Scottish nation Good Morning, my colleague Aileen Clarke invited me to which is that "we're all in this together."
The shock and horror? For a moment, I thought she was going to sing. Still don't recognise it? That phrase is the title of a ditty from "High School Musical": an anthem which is notably uplifting or gloopily sentimental, according to taste.
What is more, Aileen and I were part of a noble ´óÏó´«Ã½ Scotland team deputed to sing and dance to this tune for Children in Need a wee while back.
As she intoned the phrase, I was instantly transported back to the rehearsals: as we struggled to learn the steps, our expressions as grimly serious as your auntie performing the Slosh at a Scottish wedding, concentrating on every step.
I have since consulted with Aileen. She confessed that she too had recalled those days treading (or rather stomping) the boards. With a shiver.
Of course, the phrase could be taken two ways. It could be, as the Tories intend, an invitation to the contemporary version of solidarity.
Troubled times
We're all in this together, what an adventure. Join us as we enter government.
Or the tone could owe more to the Rev I.M. Jolly.
Just try reading it slowly in his sepulchral voice. We're - all - in - this - together. And doom awaits.
In truth, there will have to be a bit of both in all the manifesto launches. Bounding on stage and yelling "Hi de Hi" (or, indeed, are you aaaaall right?) won't quite cut it in these troubled times.
All the parties are adamant, of course, that they are offering proportionate responses.
The Liberal Democrats, for example, insist that they are telling it like it is when it comes to the economy.
Nick Clegg may be less than inclined to repeat his promise / threat of "savage cuts". But Vince Cable does a passing imitation of a character in a Russian play, entering, stage left, to announce that cousin Mikhail has just hanged himself in the barn.
Admittedly, .
Daily grind
Apparently, the town which was once famous for its absence of pubs is now the hub of youthful fun.
But Mr Scott's was a serious message: that the young must be fostered even in times of economic gloom.
In my mischievous way, I inquired in advance whether he would mount a skateboard: whether he would perform a flip, boardslide or grind. Sadly, no.
Instantly, I thought of another Lib Dem leader, Paddy Ashdown. Mr Ashdown, action man himself, was visiting a curling rink in, as I recall, Pitlochry.
Go on, Paddy, the wicked media urged from the safety of the sidelines. Get on the ice. Throw a stone.
No, he said, you just want to see me fall on my backside. Slowly, but as one, we nodded. It was true. All so true.
Elsewhere, the and .
I'm 
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