The Garden Vote

I confess, what is happening in the Labour Party is making me sad. I wanted Jeremy Corbyn to be everything his supporters say he is. I wanted him to fight passionately and stubbornly for the rights of the workers. I wanted them to be right that it was just the biased press that was stopping us seeing the real Jeremy. A little bit of me was even hoping  that the vote of no confidence from the people he is meant to be leading was just hype by a Blairite PR company. I suspect, though, that none of that is true and that he is just stubborn, humourless and not a very good party leader and I say that as someone who often has the House of Commons on the TV as background noise when I'm home alone, sad as that confession is. However, my biggest problem with Corbyn is his front garden. The man is supposed to be a gardener. You can find pictures of him on the Internet with an enormous marrow but he seems happy with a scruffy hedge, roses that need tying up that scratch him whenever he forgets to duck when leaving his house.

With all of these resignations we are being treated to a nightly view of politicians' front gardens. Mostly, they're a scruffy lot. Even Boris Johnson, who has a very smart London home with a shiny black door, railings to match and swept paths has a huge weed in the pot containing a straggly tree by his front door. Michael Gove's front patch is a disgrace and the number of MPs that have their wheelie bins on show is just criminal.  The only garden I've liked so far is Tim Faron's.

Angela Eagle:  "I've got marrows in the back garden this big.  Beat that Jeremy!"

Would it be too much to ask for a photo of the front garden of the person you are voting for on the ballot paper? I think it would really help.