What?

[therealpm]

"Milifandom soars with Twitter backing for Labour leader Ed Miliband"

Alastair knows about this twitter thing, though I'm not convinced his smugness, if asked, would be anything other than intolerable. Maybe Fiona?

Comments

[therealpm]

Familiarise yourself with your brief.

*John just looks blank and Peter's stomach sinks.*

...your campaign team have prepared a brief for this hustings, haven't they?

*John continues to look blank.*

A file containing anticipated questions, lines of attack from the opposing candidates, the main message you need to get across...

...have they done any of this?

[bamfbercow]

*John continues to stare at Peter.*

My "campaign team" consists of the few members of the local Conservative party who can still stand the sight of me and a group of sixth-form students who aren't even old enough to vote. I'm lucky if they all manage to turn up at the same time for a strategy meeting! Sparring with you for half an hour is far more effective preparation for tonight than sitting with a cluster of spotty 16 year olds!

*John warms to the theme of just how crap his political team is and is soon ranting away.*

[therealpm]

*Peter nearly falls into the grate when he uses one of his hands to cover his eyes in despair rather than holding onto the mantle pillars on his side of the fire. He recovers as gracefully as someone smudged with charcoal can and gets his phone out to contact The Machine. Halfway through the text he decides crouching halfway through a fireplace is neither comfortable nor dignified and crawls through to sit on the hearthrug and finish the message.

John's still ranting by the time Peter gets his reply. It's all the demographic data for the constituency, along with a list of what The Machine has identified as the most and least popular policies for each of the main voting sectors. There's no slogans to push as there hasn't been time for The Machine to simulate an appropriate focus group or twelve, but it'll do.*

John, do be quiet and come over here.

*The screen is really far too small but he's left his ipad back in London and crawling through that fireplace is such a faff.

These are the main sectors you need to target...

*He keeps a beady eye on the clock as he tells John exactly what he needs to do tonight.*

[bamfbercow]

*John doesn't argue with Peter's assessment - despite what Peter thinks, John does know his constituency and the analysis he's seeing matches rather well with what he's seen and heard on the doorsteps. No wonder Labour won landslide after landslide if Peter could get such accurate, targeted information so quickly he thinks to himself. He makes a mental note to talk to Peter about The Machine's capabilities... after the election.*

*The time to leave comes around far sooner than John thought possible. They're still going through sector analysis as John puts his coat on.*

Think you can finish the briefing in the car?

*He pulls on a pair of shoes as he waits for an answer.*

[therealpm]

I suppose so - give me a minute or two first.

*He heads to the bathroom to wash off the soot. Peter really hadn't planned to spend his evening rattling around the backroads of the Tory heartland, but he hasn't really had a chance to do any electioneering this time round and if the Labour party won't have him then he supposes it's not technically treachery to help an ex-Tory (and strictly impartial) Speaker.

He checks his face in the mirror and tries both a notice-me-not charm and glamour. Usually they're amongst his more reliable spells, but this area is so strongly Tory that getting both to stick is more than a little difficult. He's going to need all the help he can get to avoid being recognised.

On his way back he snags one of John's tweedish coats and tosses it at John.*

Lengthen that, would you?

*He removes his own jacket and tie. Suits just stand out here. Next time he'd remember to bring a fleece. Not that there would be a next time. It's one thing to help an ex-Tory in a pinch and quite another to commit to managing their campaign.

By the time they'd reached the car he was already planning leaflets.*