“Do you feel that a man with your lack of morals should be standing for Parliament?”

“Whose side are you on, Seb?”

“He’s on your side,” said Griff, “and you’d better have an answer to that question by next Thursday night.”

“May I ask why we haven’t seen your wife in the constituency during the election campaign?”

“She’s visiting her parents in Wales.”

“That’s at least a thousand votes down the drain,” said Griff.

“Tell me, Sir Giles, do you plan to make another trip to Berlin in the near future?”

“That’s below the belt, Seb.”

“Which is exactly where Fisher will aim most of his punches,” said Griff. “So make sure you keep your guard up.”

“He’s right, Seb. Keep on punching.”

*   *   *

“Good morning, my name is Giles Barrington, and I’m the Labour candidate for Bristol Docklands…”

“They’ve changed the venue,” said Griff at the morning prayer meeting.

“Why?” asked Giles.

“There’s been such a huge demand for tickets that it’s been moved from the Guildhall to the Hippodrome Theatre.”

“But the Hippo holds two thousand people,” said Giles.

“I wish it held ten thousand,” said Griff. “You’ll never get a better chance to talk to the voters direct.”

“And at the same time expose Fisher for the fraud he is,” said Seb.

“How many seats have been allocated to us?” asked Griff, turning to Miss Parish.

“Each candidate is entitled to three hundred.”

“Any problem in filling our seats with the faithful?”

“None at all, the phone hasn’t stopped for the past week. It could be a Rolling Stones concert. In fact, I’ve been in touch with my opposite number at the Liberal Party, to see if they’ve got any spare tickets.”

“They can’t be stupid enough to release them to you.”

“It’s got nothing to do with stupidity,” said Miss Parish. “I have a feeling it’s something far closer to home.”

“Like what?” said Griff.

“I’ve no idea, but I’ll get to the bottom of it before next Thursday.”

“And what about the remaining tickets?” said Griff. “Who gets those?”

“First come, first served,” said Miss Parish. “I’ll have a hundred of our people standing in the queue an hour before the curtain goes up.”

“So will the Tories,” said Griff. “Better make it two hundred, two hours before.”

*   *   *

“Good morning, my name is Giles Barrington, and I’m the Labour candidate…”

For the next week, Giles didn’t let up for one minute, the weekend included. He canvassed, visited pubs, held evening meetings, and attended any gathering where more than half a dozen people were likely to turn up.