So, David Cameron set off on his Grand Tour of Scotland and Wales ("the provinces", in CCHQ lingo). Watching politicians on the move is fun in the post-Gillian Duffy era. You amuse yourself, imagining Cambo muttering as he slides into his car: "Scots! Can't understand a word they say! Let's cut their health service. None of them voted for me anyway." Sky News, where are you, and your microphones, when we need you?
In answer to that rhetorical question, I envisage Sky's Kay Burley and Adam Boulton (contrary to popular opinion, the most important political double act of the moment) in a soft-furnished meditation suite, forced to undertake a sponsored silence in aid of the Lifelong Therapy Fund for all the hapless interviewees they have persecuted over the past eight weeks.
Puppy love
All the attention has been on the inferior duo of Cameron and Clegg and their first, flirtatious performances. As they backslapped and shared cute jokes in front of a simpering crowd of journalists in the sun-filled rose garden of No 10, you could hear the marriage metaphors thumping their way towards the fourth estate. I for one don't think they resemble newlyweds, or a comedy double act. (Has anyone who used the Ant and Dec analogy ever seen the Geordie duo in action?
Tune in to the next series of I'm a Celebrity . . . and you'll note the lack of similarity between Cam/Clegg and Ant/Dec, who tend to make cheeky chappie gags about contestants' mishaps with micro-bikinis, rather than earnestly discussing the finer points of electoral reform.)
No, to me, Cameron and Clegg are more like man and dog. Or, to be exact, man and new puppy. Clegg is like a wide-eyed whippet, thrilled to be rescued from an undistinguished litter, in love with his new master. Naturally, the picking of the pet is the easy part. You choose the one that looks needy and sweet. Then comes the training - long hours of borderline abuse so that the pup comes to heel and stops humping strays. Nick, I warn you now: the future looks brutal.
Strictly business
The other emerging double act is David Laws and George Osborne, both enthusiastic employers of the Firm-Lipped Grin. It's a smile that says "We mean business" and "We're more than capable of making highly unpopular decisions and actually quite enjoying it". If we pitted all these couples against each other in Strictly Come Dancing, Laws and Osborne would definitely win, with their resolute desire to crush everyone around them and their commitment to a tight salsa. Cameron and Clegg would do a gentle Viennese waltz, Clegg the dainty female to Cameron's leading man, who would lose the title race by "accidentally" dropping Clegg on a crucial turn. Boulton and Burley would bravely attempt a tango. And the less said about that, the better.
Twinkle toes
A mournful word on a few election casualties. First up, women. Wow, we took a beating. Our patron saint is now Theresa May (pictured left), which, politics aside, is OK but: a) must she be (almost) the only one? And b) must every other article about her mention her shoes? The Daily Mail helpfully complied, offering the headline "Forget the Nick and Dave show, now Baroness Warsi and Theresa May are the cabinet's fashion double act". The article was accompanied by colourful photos of the pair, including one of (yawn) May's shoes with the caption "Indecisive: May switched shoes halfway through the day - showing off her huge range of accessories". It's the "indecisive" I love.
What political insight, all from a shoe change! And yes, it's yet another double act. But in this one, the partners didn't choose each other, unlike in the pet-owner model of Clegg and Cameron. No, they were thrown together by the apparent rarity of their gender. Ah, progress is a fine thing.
Nigel's crushed plans
The ultimate election casualty was Nigel Farage. Never mind the air crash (I still haven't got over the news about the Ukip banner being the cause); he admits now that his ploy to stand against the Speaker, John Bercow, was a big strategic error. "I wasn't to know just how popular John Bercow was with his constituents," Farage said.
He was also hindered by the virtual absence of his dancing partner, Ukip's leader, Lord Pearson, who admitted he'd never read the party's manifesto - and thereby did the equivalent of a moonie in the middle of a Strictly live show.
Peter Wilby is away.
