Well, I've thought deeply about it, and I've considered the merits of tactical voting, but when it comes down to it I'm just going to vote for the party who put the least crap through my letterbox.

And my god, have I had a load of crap through my letterbox. Living in one of the top Liberal Democrat target constituencies means I can barely get through the door for those cheaply-produced, ink-smeared, puke-orange leaflets. Then you get all the Labour smarm, and the Tories trying to persuade me that a vote for them is a vote against the BNP. (Like we've got a massive problem with fascists in South East England.)

I should say, at this point, that I haven't actually been sent a registration card. It's entirely possible that I'm not actually registered to vote at all at my new address. So I've come to a little arrangement with the boyfriend, who did get a card but doesn't want to vote. I'm going to not vote on his behalf, and he's going to vote on mine. Technically, I suppose, this is in fact fraud. Or at least the sort of thing that gives psephologists cold sweats.

Yes, I admit it, that was just an excuse to use the word psephologists.