I’m always up for a little bit of political fun and, now that I’ve finally decided what to do with my vote on the 9th March, I’m actually up for a LOT and a LOT of political fun.

Unfortunately however, not much is coming my way.

If you exclude Nazzareno Bonnici, tal-Ajkla, (whom I will not consider because I’m not in the habit of making fun of people who are clearly not all there), this whole campaign is just a couple of tablets short of a loony bin…but unfortunately, not in a funny way.

Sadly, whilst I’m eager to have a good laugh at the expense of most politicians, the top political party campaigns are only making me want to bawl my eyes out.

They started off with vague billboard messages, some of which were so cryptic that they had people confused as to which party was behind them.

They then went on to auction away promises as though they had never ever heard the word 'deficit' in their entire lives.

Then they moved on to the dishing out of smelly scandals (which after the election, we’ll probably never hear anything else about), and now, amidst all this, we’re back to the scary billboards, some of which are so incredibly childish that every time I pass by one of them I automatically find myself humming a nursery rhyme.

From face-painted leaders, to Pinocchio-nosed insinuations; from images intended to put the fear of the unknown in us, to messages intended to trigger nightmares of the ghost of Christmas past.

And it’s not just our outdoor space that’s been taken over by the wet dreams of a group of men and a few token women, but also our airwaves, our favourite internet sites, all the newspapers of course, and, our poor letter boxes are so constantly full of Sh*t that we’re seriously risking a national drainage jam.

I know that it’s like this before every election, but this time, because of the pulling and stretching, tugging and yanking that happened during the last bit of the legislature, it feels like we’ve been in campaign mode forever and a day.

Quite frankly, in the face of such incredibly expensive blocks of ice, such ridiculously expensive wall clocks, such absurd quantities of blue and red tablets, and this eternal orgy of oily and gassy business men, I don’t think that anyone could be blamed for cracking up and totally schizzing out before D-Day.