The rain has been utterly depressing recently.

I've spent untold hours hiding away from November rain and a number of other Axl Rose compositions. In an attempt to fill my free time on these wet winter evenings I have fallen victim to an all consuming, burning lust.

An addiction no less.

Football Manager 2010 started out as just an occasional vice born from a bid to save some readies by staying in of a night.

“It's just a football manager game I said”, “It will be OK in small doses; once, twice a week”.

Before the realisation hit home that I was hooked; I was … well … hooked.

Obviously.

Sadly my tale is one so familiar to others who have tread this bleak and lonely path before. We are the husks of humanity, ghosts of men. Cursed to hide indoors and develop nocturnal habits.

We half listen to the idiot box (tuned in to BBC News 24 or maybe Sky Sports News) repeating the same story you half listened to half an hour ago.

I must confess that my own particular low point came a few weeks ago at the height of the insidious Computer game's hold over me.

A first season promotion for my team was followed by a season of Premiership survival, the next saw improvement as my managerial stock started to rise. A fifth placed finish with my unfashionable little team the following season led to job offers. I went abroad (in the game world not the real world, which I assure you was happily spinning by outside) and made it to the Champions League final.

I was so exited I got a little carried away and put on my best suit - you know, to look tidy for such an important match.

What kind of prat did I look?, dressed to the nines for an artificially simulated clash between two sets of opposing computer graphics.

My press conference in the bath room mirror was a non-event so cheesy that all further details will remain locked firmly in a crate marked 'Top Secret' like at the end of Indiana Jones: Raiders of the lost ark.

Talking of looking a bit of a prat; I have recently happened upon many tales of Gordon Brown's latest cock-ups. The poor fellow can't seem to do anything right at the moment. He misspells a name and he's lambasted, he opens his mouth and people tell him to shut it. When he shuts it we want him to say something instead.

From the reeking compost that is Brown's dying Labour government grows Britain's one true – magnolia (sorry, I meant saviour, honestly).

David Cameron has positively blossomed in popularity as a result of Gordon Brown's utter inability to make anybody like him. It must hurt too given how easy even Tony Blair made it all look in the late Nineties.

The recent Queen's speech party political broadcasts have made for tremendous viewing given the lack of laugh-out-loud-funny comedy programmes at the moment.

Labour's effort was akin to a GSCE history programme on Channel 4. All upright classical strains interwoven with images of great Socialist achievements.

The voice over spoke with perhaps deserved pride at the legacy of such Labour greats as: Aneurin Bevan and his NHS, Keir Hardie and his unifying of the trade unions into a political party. Clement Attlee and his dismantling of the Empire.

All great and super.

Except that the broadcast failed to actually mention anything substantial about the current government's achievements. Oops.

By comparison the Tory broadcast was, in my eyes, a work of genius. Cameron knows he is such a sure bet to voted in at the next election, that his broadcast contained absolutely nothing positive. And it didn't matter.

Cameron offered us a few really tough years of financial hardship, before promising a few more years of fiscal frailty for dessert.

Brown has made Cameron look such an attractive prospect that Cameron is literally offering us a dog mess salad and we're wolfing it down with big mouthfuls of 'harsh-financial-truth'.

The next few years are going to be so bad that the Tories don't even have to pretend to have any policies to sell us (I'm sure they actually do).

Just give us the guy in the button-downed shirt, riding the rail, giving it to us straight. Warts-and-all. We can take it!

Go Dave, you're not Gord and that's enough for us! The sooner the major parties realise that modern politics is following an American trend to sell personalities rather than agenda's; the sooner we will get to election specials like: 'I'm a politician, get me out of here', 'Big Labour' and 'Strictly come voting'.

Maybe even a survival based show where the prospective PM has to survive in the wilds doing SAS training (Paddy Ashdown would win hands down!), living off next to nothing like low earning families, worming their way out of sticky situations, and backstabbing (literally) each other for points.

Followed by a duel at twenty paces. Lets call it 'Election Smackdown 2010: The rivals.'

I can dream...