So here I am. Sitting up with a cup of tea, ages after I should have followed my instincts to bed, watching the waffly overtures of the BBC’s coverage of the US election. They keep saying it’s an historic evening.
First results are in and they’re interviewing Ricky Gervais. Right to the heart of the action.
They’re also showing squads of bloggers in Times Square, keeping the online momentum of the evening belting along breathlessly. I wonder what they’re all banging on about? The concerns of the chap who’s really at the centre of this election – Joe the Blogger? That guy speaks for me, sure.
Oh dear, can I face the tedium and adrenalin mixed? If so, it shows I might have coped with being an airline pilot.
I’ve even been scribbling in my journal, just to prove I was here on this ‘historic night’. Like historians are going to be concerned with what I half-heartedly scrawled in my underpants on the sofa on the night the first black president of the USA wasn’t elected.
Actually, a little voice whispered in my idle wonderings, while cynicism bellowed in the background something obvious about America ‘buggering it up at the last bloody minute’, that maybe – just maybe – Obama will win by a landslide. An actual landslide.
If he does, let’s just accept it – it would be historic alright.
A president who understands disco.