By Stephen Pollard
May 6, 2010
Election night is where I reveal my inner misanthrope.
I can't say I've been invited to that many parties - two, truth be told - but they are both quite glamorous and ritzy affairs. But do you want to know where I'll be? Sitting on my sofa, remote in hand, flicking between the channels and lapping it up. Thing is, I loathe election night parties, where you are inevitably assailed by someone at the very moment a result you want to hear is coming in, and where all sorts of people whose views of what's unfolding are of no interest whatsoever are all that you get to hear.
The last party I went to was in 1992. I'd been working on the Labour campaign and knew pretty much from the start we were doomed. All I wanted to do was go home and be miserable, but I had to be misreable with lots of other people.
As I say, I've spent the last 3 at home. And I am quite ridiculously excited to be doing the same tonight.
Only eight hours to go!