This most certainly isn't the time for voters to be messing about with the untried or the untested

In just two of the first handful of comments I read, someone described the 17,000-plus people who voted for former Bailiff Sir Philip Bailhache as ‘sheep’ while someone else likened this unfailingly courteous and mildest mannered of men to a dictator.

Well, if he is likened to a dictator then all this simple country boy can say is that the Big House could do with a couple of dozen like him – if only to make the place less gratuitously and offensively nasty and turn the concept of membership back to one of service to the wider community rather than the home for a petty, point scoring rabble that it has become.

Then I saw one about Ian Gorst who, according to this ‘two more brain cells and I’ll be a dandelion’ online political expert, only came in because the election was held on a weekday and therefore ordinary people with jobs didn’t have time to vote between 8 am and 8 pm.

Of course, it doesn’t occur to this prime example of the missing link that everyone’s been able to vote at any time during the past few weeks – indeed probably since the ballot papers got back from the printers after nominations had been formally made.

The trouble is that such facts don’t fit the theory and therefore must be instantly red carded.

In common, I suspect, with very many others, I approached this election on the basis that a monkey on a stick (don’t laugh, they once hanged a monkey for treason in Hartlepool, so I’m told) probably couldn’t do any worse than some of the time wasters who’ve scrambled on to the gravy train in the past.

As I said to Herself before we set off for the parish hall last Wednesday morning, this most certainly isn’t the time for voters to be messing about with the untried, the untested, or indeed those with a reputation for being bolshie little crapauds who enjoy the bit of skite that comes with rocking the boat a bit.

Well, she said, getting a bit huffy, you enjoy having your bit of skite rocking the boat every time you write your column, forgetting until I reminded her that the function of those such as me is a world away from the huge responsibility that comes with being elected to public office and being responsible for the well-being of the 100,000 souls who live here.

As someone known to have placed the occasional two bob each way on the gee-gees with Honest Nev, I reckon I know a gambler when I see one and for my money three of the four successful candidates for Senator come into that category.

I don’t include Francis Le Gresley because his success at a relatively recent by-election meant that he could be a shade more confident about retaining his seat than, for example, one who if this was the country a hundred miles to the north of us would now be looking a red frock and a bit of ermine. After all, the next stop for ministers who drop at UK elections is usually the House of Lords and Lord Cohen of Portelet has a certain ring to it.

No, the real gamblers were Sir Philip, Deputy Gorst and Senator-elect Lyndon Farnham who could either have not taken the risk or chosen a perhaps easier route. The former Boss really had everything to lose had his ‘everything in the wallet on the nose’ bet failed to come off. There wasn’t an each-way option for him whereas Ian Gorst could have opted for the (perhaps) relative safety of a seat at St Clement he’d really done nothing bad enough (in a parochial sense) to lose.

Similarly, Lyndon Farnham could have returned to the Deputies’ benches he left some time ago and that might well have proved a less gruelling route to the Big House than doing the rounds of all the Island’s parishes pitting his wits against a dozen candidates knowing that more than two thirds of them wouldn’t make it.

Of course, there were those who gambled and lost, notably Terry Le Main and Bob Hill. Just as three of the four successful candidates for Senator demonstrated their skill at knowing when and where to jump in, so Senator Le Main and Deputy Hill clearly misread the writing on the wall which said it was time to jump out before they were pushed.

Voters clearly thought that these two politicians, with over half a century in the Big House between them (the Senator since 1978 and the Deputy since 1993), had at least reached, if not passed, their respective sell buy dates. Elections are often harsh experiences for the unsuccessful and particularly so for these two men, given their length of service.

Elsewhere, Constables Peter Hanning and Mike Jackson also bit the dust – the former to an erstwhile pantomime principal boy called Sadie Rennard and the latter to one of his own Centeniers, Steve Pallett.

With the benefit of hindsight, Mr Hanning may be regretting his stance over that small patch of land opposite St Saviour’s School while Mr Jackson might perhaps be ruing taking ministerial office.

And finally,

Emerging after voting, I overheard Herself having a laugh with her mate about the difficulty of men coping with the sort of multi-tasking that comes with participating in three separate ballots. As I said to her mate’s husband, quoting something I read recently, when I’m deciding where precisely to place the line and float, I can’t also be wondering about the merits of the cold wash cycle, which eyeliner to wear and whether water retention counts as weight gain – issues which seemingly occupy the minds of the female of the species.