I hate injections.

I’d rather face a man coming at me with a sword than with a syringe. At least my tai chi has shown me how to cope with the former. Obviously, as long as its a very very blunt sword and he comes in slow motion. But a syringe? You’re not allowed to ‘wave hands like clouds’ and break the nurse’s arm. I asked. She said ‘no’. With a Czech accent. I expected Hattie Jaques in full flowing blue uniform, instead I got Olga in a pair of jeans. Doesn’t really matter who’s holding the thing, a syringe is a syringe and only has one purpose.

But this morning, in about an hour, in fact, I have my last pre-travel injection for our xmas trip to South America. We’ve had typhoid, yellow fever, hepatitis A and B, tuberculosis, the Plague, St Vitus Dance, ebola and athlete’s foot. Ok, maybe I’ve forgotten some and made up others.

And rabies. Today’s is the 3rd and final one for rabies. I don’t have rabies, I think (but how do you know? I do foam at the mouth, but only whilst brushing my teeth) and I’m not sure if the jab is to protect me in case I’m bitten by Cujo or to protect the Brazilians in case I bite them. As Luis Suarez demonstrated so elegantly in the last World Cup, biting is a problem among South Americans.

Then its over. My body a temple for the next 10 years from all of the above plus the ones I’ve forgotten. My arm has been punctured so many times it now takes in water in the bath. But can shrug off a virus without even noticing it. I hope.

None of which will affect the voting today in Rochester and Strood for the by-election. Which UKIP will win. And claim their second Member of Parliament, Mark Reckless, another Tory reject. In that he rejected them, rather than the other way round. Another pretty meaningless protest vote. Its not like 2 MPs is sufficient to force a majority into closing the gates of Britain forever to immigration, be it from Europe or even further afield. And then start on the lengthy process of repatriation. Sending ‘them’ back. All of them. Fucking immigrants, nicking our jobs, living off the state, send ’em ‘ome.

My maternal grandmother arrived in England in 1900. My paternal grandfather about a hundred years earlier. Am I at risk? From deportation? Repatriation? Who’ll make my chicken tikka massala if everyone is sent back to Bangla Desh and Pakistan? Who’ll make my pizza? Paella? Crispy fried beef with chilli and beensprouts?? Sushi!!!!!! It’ll all be gone and we’ll be back with beef-an-ale pies, fish’n’chips and sodding Paleo. And who will do all the building and construction if there’s no Poles around?

I don’t care what Nigel F-F-F-Farage says to the contrary, he’s a smiley, boozey, faggy version of Hitler for the post-millennial times and has only one policy: make Britain single, solitary, alone and white.

Be careful what you wish for; vote anything but UKIP today.

Happy Election Day

A xxxx