Like when Scotland play football on TV, Kevan Christie feels compelled to watch the election results, but can hardly bear it.
Election night special next week folks, the non-alcoholic lager is cooling in the fridge and the cheese tasters (posh Wotsits) have been bought from M&S along with the sausage rolls in anticipation of the Big Hoorah next Thursday.
The plan is to hit the sack early then get up like a child going to a late-night performance of the Edinburgh Military Tattoo.
I’ll flick between former speaker John Bercow, a special guest on the Sky News’ election night programme, and the BBC, where Welsh Wizard Huw Edwards will be holding the conch.
Jeremy Vine will be responsible for the swingometer, channelling the ghost of Peter Snow – who I gather is still alive. Laura Kuenssberg may be outside College Green wearing her ‘I love Boris’ T-shirt amid unfounded claims of BBC bias.
However, while ‘you might very well think that, of course I couldn’t possibly comment’.
Meanwhile I’ll be digging out the Labour Party flags and lighting up a fine Cuban cigar which I’ll smoke under the Che Guevara poster, with the Russian national anthem playing in the background – no collusion to see here, move along.
And if the central heating fails at the Southfork Ranch, I can always put on my donkey jacket donated to me by the coal board back in 1979. ‘Now is the winter of our discontent.’
As you might have gathered I’m supporting Labour and have done so ever since my father first lifted me over the turnstiles at Easter Road... sorry wrong sport... cemented with watching the seminal Boys from the Blackstuff as a teenager in the early 80s.
It’s what I’ve always done, Scotland is a proud socialist country with a history of trade unionism and no amount of facepaint, Tunnock’s and, heaven-forbid, flirting with the Lib Dems will change my stubborn mind. I’m beyond help – even if the last Labour MP standing might be Ian Murray and he’s a right Jambo.
So, yip, it’s Labour for me, because “Jeremy’s on the right track. ‘Cause he’s got high hopes. He’s got high hopes’” – that and a rousing chorus of ‘Oh Jeremy Corbyn’ should keep things on an upwards trajectory until the first result comes in.
Then I’ll hit the utility room, crack open the Schloer grape juice to drown my sorrows and munch on a couple of bacon rolls in the style of Ed Milliband who got KO’d in the first round back in 2015 after writing his election pledges on a two-tonne slab of limestone. The Ed Stone, as one wag described it.
Scottish Labour leader Richard ‘we are the Mods’ Leonard will no doubt be driving his scooter along Porty promenade on Friday 13th looking for the nearest cliff – like Jimmy in Quadrophenia who – spoiler alert from 1979 – doesn’t die at the end. He’s a nice man is old Dicky but no leader, dear reader.
But I’m not one for changing sides, it’s just not cricket old boy. Nope, no switching to another team halfway through the season for me – no glory hunting like the bus-loads of fans from around Scotland who travel through to Glasgow to support the Old Firm.
I’m sticking with my local sheriff and they’re wearing a Labour badge, red is the colour, even if the team is struggling and we could do with a new manager. That’s the way I’ve been brought up and as for the turncoats, well, this lady’s not for turning. And yes I’m talking about the ‘I used to support Labour’ but now follow the SNP brigade.
Betrayers of the socialist cause, blinkered hordes, who’ll give Nicola (one-word name like Madonna) a Get out of Jail Free pass on the hat-trick of nightmares that are health, education and the polis in the pursuit of “Freedom!”
Send for Chief Commissioner Cameron Miekelson – he’ll sort us out. OK, granted Nicola does well on the big stage but struggles with the daily grind, the bread and all-butter shortbread stuff like making sure our kids can count, as Scotland’s international performance in maths and science hit a record low this week.
When are we going to judge her on education then? Counting is not the SNP’s strong point as the Institute of Fiscal Studies highlighted this week with no proper costings for overall tax, spending and borrowing in their election manifesto.
I know Scotland will be skint for a bit and the SNP must come clean and admit that – but the idea of a whole country being rooked seems a bit of an abstract concept. Then again, someone from Greece might tell you a different story.
To be fair, I’ll be joining the Nats in their constitutional quest for “Freedom!” if Boris and his Cabinet of ‘folk who dinnae blink’ get back in.
It’s still possible to support Scottish independence and Labour even if our voices have been lost under a deluge of Cybernat doughnuttery.
Anyway, back on dry land and it’s time for a pop at the Tories. Where do they find them? Matt Hancock and Dominic ‘can’t chew gum and walk at the same time’ Raab? The dangerous brothers.
Then there’s the likes of Michael Gove, Priti Patel, Gavin Williamson and anyone else who’d sell their granny for a fiver.
The Scottish Tories are a much nicer bunch – still Tories mind, but decent enough, upstanding citizens who might make you a lovely bowl of homemade soup if you ask them nicely.
But I’m a bit scunnered with ‘the politics’, the standard is dreadful and everything’s in the gutter...
That’s why I’ll be treating next Thursday night like Eurovision or, worse still, watching the Scotland team in the World Cup (as if).
I know I’m backing a loser but chances are we’ll all wake up on Friday 13th and realise like Bobby Ewing coming out the shower in Dallas that nothing has changed and it’s all been a dream.