Now I could have lead today on the sacking of a Tory councillor who called for poor people to be sterilized. Alternatively I could have pointed to yet another Tory apology for racist comments. But to be quite honest all of that stuff is just like soooo old Conservative and The Tory Troll is like soooo over it.
So rather than open up old wounds I thought I would look forward to the brave new world that lies ahead in a Nu-Con utopia:
In Nu-Con land every day is Saturday and we all sit together in the mornings and eat wholesome bowls of muesli. And after a sip of organic juice we open the latest copy of The Guardian and recite the whimsical musings of Hoggart, to our politely giggling children.
Then we take the Daily Mail out for a nourishing and earnest walk. And as we pass the local yobs we remind them of the evils of chocolate oranges. And as they hang their hoods in shame we point them to the trendiest of youth projects.
And as we trek across the fields, baby deer scatter into the bushes. We lift our kiddies onto our shoulders and tell them of brave daddies and evil pheasants.
And at midday we kick off our wellies and we sit in our local celebrity gastro-pub. And we chew subtle slices of fennel from our lightly manicured fingers.
And as the salmon pink sun sets down, on the horizon of second-homes, we pick up our copies of The Daily Telegraph and wonder at yet another efficiency saving.
And the leader columns cry of yet another boost to marriages and yet another cut in taxes and yet further house price rises.
And as David Cameron takes Blair on yet another eco-get-away, we look at Cameron surf a wave and think: thank god sunshine won the Dave.