An early morning spot of 'vote rigging' with Anna.
You vote for Madam X over there for me, and I'll vote for Mr X over here for you.
Job's a good 'un.
Elsewhere and the 'choice' was far more easier.
I'm becoming something of a master at drawing big fat spunking cocks protruding into the face of certain candidates.
X marks the spot.
Now go and wash your hands.
Or even a complete body scrub, which is what I had ahead of the morning swim.
I'm not sure what has happened to my metabolism over the past few days, but once again mind and body were both up for a BIG swim.
I had to cut it short at 40 lengths - I 'aint gonna get any sleep for the next 48 hours. Energies are needed elsewhere.
West Ham Wanker was on fine form in the changing rooms.
He gave me the full lowdown on the election.
Tell It Like It Is, etc.
Couldn't possibly repeat any of West Ham Wanker's words of wisdom here.
Next up was an election haircut. What is left of my hair is growing faster than it use to. Just not in the right places.
I've changed the frequency of the cut from four down to three weeks.
Oh the irony of losing my hair, yet increasing the number of times that it is cut.
Late Junction livened up the morning work shifts.
Roof Man returned mid-morning, all ready for round 2.
Scaffolding was ERRECTED.
From the front, as well.
The esteemed Cycling Correspondent of Vice magazine (that will be me, then) heard back late afternoon that the first submission has been successful.
I'm working on extending the remit to cover County Cricket as well.
And then it was all about the bloody election count.
I cycled off to Charter Hall in Sunny Colch to cover it for @ColchChrnonic.
Nine hours later and I had pretty much tweeted my arse off.
Back again in 12 hours time to do it all again for the local elections.