The man settles into the office chair in his untidy study, thinking of a boy sitting on a wall, heels scuffing the bricks. He needs to push words around again but sitting on a wall sounds good.

Thoughts, the man has a head full, rolling like chipped marbles. Many collide, hence the chips. Some concern the grind of life, although as a foolish optimist usually he looks the other way, hoping for sunshine.

The man glances at Facebook and sees a post from a former colleague. This praises Boris Johnson for his wit in saying: “Jeremy Corbyn used to be indecisive but now he’s not so sure.”

Good old Boris, the former colleague says. Well, that’s not original, the man snaps to himself – Bastard Boris has swiped that from somewhere. Google suggests Tommy Cooper. This irritates the man as he really likes Tommy Cooper. After the conjuring bumbler died, a documentary about Cooper reduced the man to a desperate puddle. Tears of laughter and something else.

Many thoughts concern the horrible election now taking place. Some people the man knows are actively political and campaign for the Labour Party. The man admires their commitment but couldn’t hack it himself. He shares many of those beliefs; it’s just, you know, politics.

The man finds comfort in being appalled by Boris Johnson and his litany of lies. All the ‘decent’ Tories have left, leaving only those shameless enough to swear allegiance to the awful Johnson. Half of them don’t like or trust Johnson, but they’ve bet the house on his untucked shirt.

Consider that thin manifesto grasped in his fat fist; a bit of nothing, no details, just get the bollocks done and elect the big Etonian bollock, as this election is about Boris Johnson’s ego more than it is anything else, even Brexit.

The man takes a deep breath and apologises for saying bollocks again. That’s the trouble with politics right now: it just makes everyone cross and shouty. And makes you want to say bollocks a lot; although to be fair, the man says bollocks a lot anyway.

Has this country always been like this under the surface or were we calmer once? The man thinks a calm country sounds nice.

He seeks solace on Twitter and discovers a tweet from Sarah Murphy. “Welcome to my eco chamber,” Sarah’s bio says. It’s a popular gathering place as Sarah has nearly 17,000 followers, many thousands more than the man.

Sarah’s tweet says: “None of the parties is perfect or pure. Far from it. BUT… the Tory party has taken the piss out of this country for 9 years. They lie to us about Brexit every single day. They are truly dangerous and will ruin and divide this country. To vote for them is to be complicit. Don’t.”

The man thinks, oh yeah! Yet he worries every time Jeremy Corbyn starts banging on about the ‘establishment’. Labour’s manifesto is fat with ideas, unlike Boris Johnson’s thin offering. That’s good, then again but. “Then again but”, is the sort of thing the man thinks when he isn’t saying bollocks too much.

When Corbyn rails against “the bankers, the billionaires and the establishment”, isn’t he just indulging in what you might call reverse populism – a left-wing answer to a Nigel Farage rant? And isn’t Corbyn so invested in bashing the establishment (whatever that might be) that he doesn’t have time to offer a bright, optimistic vision of a Labour Britain? He always seems happier moaning or shouting about the Tories than he does in being truly inspirational.

The man tells himself not to mention Corbyn’s Brexit fence-sitting again, and all that nonsense about being neutral in any future vote, as he’s gone on about that before. Now he finds he’s gone on about it once more.

Then again but the man sees Johnson conjuring nurses out of a hat and building non-existent hospitals, and blithely promising any old shit to get this thing done (this thing being getting himself elected). And he thinks than again but.

The man settling into the office chair in the untidy study starts typing. He tells himself to stay away from politics. Then again but…