No matter how lofty the assembly, politicians the world over have too much time on their hands

Not only does the unfortunate feline bear the markings of a Chaplinesque moustache, it has also apparently developed the habit of raising a paw in the Nazi salute. It is not the first cat to hit the headlines for having an uncanny likeness to the Führer and it won’t be the last.

The month of August is traditionally the slowest for news, so the opportunity arises for journalists to indulge their skills as wordsmiths in the more bizarre and plain daft stories that in times of richer pickings are unlikely to see the light of day.

Over the coming weeks we can expect a plethora of stories at home and on the national and international scenes about instances of unusual likenesses of famous people among the animal and vegetable world.

When these run dry, the news-starved media, in particular the salacious red-top tabloids, will turn their attention to holy manifestations in everything from buttered toast to clouds, dire warnings of an impending Arctic winter or sowing the seeds of the latest in the long line of life-threatening pandemics.

Living in Jersey, and governed as we are by politicians who have long mastered the art of putting a foot or two in ever-open mouths and never being able to avoid slipping on a banana skin no matter how big or bright yellow, it could be said that the entire calendar year is the silly season.

The dearth of stories over the long summer break is attributed in the main to parliaments being in recess as the daily business of government is suspended and politicians, ever eager to see their names in print or broadcast to the nation, go unusually quiet.

If only that was the case here. We have no chance of any respite this summer with the Island’s first general election two months off.

Beloved politicians eager to continue to suckle from the drip feed of the gravy train, and election candidates hopeful of jumping on board, are vying with each other to make sure the hapless electorate knows exactly who they are, what they stand for and how they propose to put all things currently wrong on this rock to right.

It used to be that candidates kept their powder dry until the appointed nomination meeting. Not this year. Leaflets are already dropping through letterboxes, meetings and surgeries are being held and doors are being knocked upon.

If this saturation canvassing continues apace up to polling day, come the time to vote we’ll all be able to enter Mastermind answering questions on whichever candidate has bombarded us the most with the minute details of his or her manifesto, life history and aspirations for parochial and Island domination.

The peace in my vantage point on the Boulivot heights was interrupted one quiet evening last week when a prospective candidate left footprints in the gravel of the back yard to drop off an invitation to a meeting a good six weeks before nomination day.

His appearance sent the Jack Russells into a frenzy of barking as they went on intruder alert. Plenty more of that to come girls, I promised them.

With prospective candidates declaring here, there and everywhere, and in some cases before the schools broke for the summer holidays, it all seems a tad previous for my liking.

Great efforts – and correspondingly considerable amounts of cash – are being made to fan public interest in the forthcoming elections, and none more so than by factions purportedly formed with the intention of dominating the new House. Why can’t they leave us alone until September?

It is not only politicians who need a break from government. Joe and Josephine Public who are bombarded non-stop by a politically obsessed media would welcome a respite. Come August I want to read about carrots shaped like the boot of Italy, the face of Jesus formed in jam spread on a scone, and cats with a passing resemblance to Adolf Hitler.

A story to typify the political genre of the silly season emerged last weekend. The findings of research conducted in the Houses of Parliament revealed that MPs are spending almost 1,000 hours a year on the social networking site Twitter, sharing with followers such illuminating information as their favourite cakes and their sorrow at the death of a celebrity they never met.

Which just goes to prove that no matter how lofty the political assembly, politicians the world over have too much time on their times.

OUR own gaggle of beloved politicians has got tweeting and exchanging emails – not to mention leaking them to the media – down to a fine art. Perhaps some bright spark in the civil service might care to log the time Members devote to such frivolous activity because their time is our time, and, moreover, our money.

States Members needn’t worry about having their phone hacked when they are only too willing to share their thoughts with all and sundry.

Their time would be better spent addressing the issues that really matter.