I was VERY SAD about John Smith. Sadder than comically shouty capital letters can suggest. I actually remember hearing about his death because I was in a French lesson in Year 9 and there was a girl who liked to spend her French lessons listening to a hidden radio rather than learning how to order two-star petrol in Normandy, and in the middle of an unfortunate silence she said, quite loudly, 'John Smith's died!' I'd been quite excited about his getting in because my parents had been going on about how they wanted him to be the party leader since I was about three or something and then it actually happened, and then he went and died. Boo.

And it made my May 1st 1997 significantly less ecstatic than it ought to have been.

Also I'm now completely enamoured of the idea of politics being decided via a dance-off. I don't think there's much wrong with the notion of choosing candidates according to their dancing ability. If you've spent your life learning to dance you probably haven't had time to do anything appalling.