The last four weeks have not been very newsworthy, with the main party leaders basically trying to out shout each other across the floor of the house during prime minister’s questions.

Quite frankly it is not very edifying and not very instructive to anybody still in a quandary as to where to place their cross on 7 May. Why on earth the Tories insist on trying to out promise Milipede’s bunch, I do not know. If they just kept on reminding the electorate of that which they have achieved from a very low base during the last five years and what further improvements this would lead to during the next parliament, the result of the election should be cut and dried.

Nicola Sturgeon doesn’t make promises – she makes threats; the Liberals don’t make any sense and Farage does not make any promises, because with a pint of beer in one hand and a fag in the other he is unable to cross his fingers behind his back. Current party politics is really quite pathetic and puerile.

I fear however that if the Tories get into power the greatest danger facing them will be the promised referendum on Europe, which without doubt will go in favour of those wishing to leave. The only reason Scotland failed to gain independence was the no campaign voting with their heads and the yes campaign voting with their hearts. This is exactly what will happen in the referendum over our membership of the European Union.

Do any of us mere mortals have enough information to make an informed judgement on the pros and cons of continued membership? How many of our MPs have a clue themselves and how many of them care a jot anyway? Most inhabitants of the House of Commons are only there for the beer and as a conduit to a future career when finally chucked out of Westminster. Let’s face it, Tony Blair is a prime example of pig and trough.

Before leaving home last Tuesday to attend Ashford Market I watched the BBC news from 6am and was amazed that a vast amount of air time was given to London Zoo where they are conducting research to establish why penguins walk with a waddle. This I am sure is important life enhancing investigative work and will no doubt alter all our lives. I have it on the highest authority that research is also planned to find out firstly why MPs fiddle; secondly, why the RSPCA likes to meddle; and thirdly, why dogs piddle against a lamp post! No wonder management and I are in a muddle.

We had a very entertaining evening some time last week. We rather fancied replacing an old double glazed sliding door with a 2.7 metre all singing, all dancing French window and invited a well known national company to come and quote. Two very pleasant chaps arrived at 4pm and spent the next two hours doing everything bar giving us a price for the job. Finally, having worn us down, their opening bid, following much tapping on a calculator, was about £7,500.

Fortunately I was wearing brown trousers at the time and therefore allowed them to try again. A subsequent call to head office enabled them to reduce the price to £5,500 provided we agreed to the finished article being photographed and included in their next catalogue.

Having changed my trousers again and after refusing their very generous offer I suggested to the two salesmen that without doubt there would be a further call from head office with a best and final offer. Lo and behold, within ten minutes the ‘phone rang again and given that we were obviously important and worthwhile customers, they would cut their margin to the quick and do the job for £3,630.

By this time management had returned, newly refreshed in the underwear department and we said “no” again. The salesmen fully understood and respected our decision, finally leaving at 7pm with half a dozen eggs each as a reward for their hard work and also with the knowledge that the price for the job which I had written prior to their arrival, on the palm of my hand, was £1,800. Surprise, surprise, we received a call the following day from a super salesman announcing that they were prepared to visit us again and strike a deal which we would be unable to refuse, provided we signed up there and then.

Subsequently my wife was ‘phoned at home on Tuesday morning to arrange the visit with this further salesman and as requested accompanied by his very sharp pencil. Management is built of sterner stuff and suggested that if this rep arrived he might well spend the rest of his life trying to retrieve his pencil! The saga continues and we may well report again.

One last piece of hot news from the BBC on this morning of the 18 March. Research has proved that the longer you were breast fed the greater your intelligence and eventual earning capacity. This proves two things – Jeremy Clarkson was definitely breast fed for some considerable time and the entire management of BBC light entertainment were obviously not.