Surreal door knocking

On election night I was in our neighbouring, less safe, ward knocking on the doors of Labour promises; and approached a house that had a taxi parked on its hardstanding, 3D hologram style Jesus last supper postcards on the door and big pictures of the Royal Family with small Union Jacks stuck across each corner, and a copy of our local candidates leaflet peeping shyly out amongst them. A plump middle aged guy came to the door and proclaimed “Labour? Yes! Jeremy Corbyn. I love him!” and blew kisses into the air. M’wah! Mwah!”

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