WHAT a lively affair the mayoral election count transpired to be - if only for all the wrong reasons.

Where the campaign had been somewhat flat, the climax was slightly more exciting, thanks, sadly, to the outrageous behaviour of some of the far right members who turned up.

Obviously they were of the mistaken belief they would have something to celebrate, given how many of them turned up stinking of ale. In fact, some had to be practically carried into the count, let alone carried out.

SO, D-DAY has arrived. Or perhaps M-Day might be more appropriate. Or, for some, looking at the list of candidates, maybe another initial prefix might be more fitting.

However, the run-up to choosing an elected mayor for Liverpool has not been the most eagerly anticipated of events, nor will it be that world- changing - if even city-changing.

If Cllr Joe Anderson wins, there's every chance there will be little difference to notice.

IN THE days of ancient Rome (which Mr Brocklebank can barely remember), Caesars used gladiatorial combat and circuses as a diversion and distraction to keep the mobilis vulgaris at bay.

And perhaps so it was last weekend, when around half a million people turned up in Liverpool to be distracted by the Sea Odyssey spectacle.

Certainly council leader Cllr Joe Anderson looked positively emperor-like as he surveyed his domain from the balcony of the Town Hall.

"POLITICAL language", Mr Brocklebank's old mucker George Orwell wrote, "is designed to make lies sound truthful, murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."

Certainly the political language of Liverpool's elected mayor campaign has been the source of much debate - primarily the enforced absence of some of it from particular candidates' election material at the behest of cautious returning officer Ged Fitzgerald.

And there is plenty of pure wind coming out of certain quarters, not least from the right-wing.

THE old adage is that the left wing of politics is the worst for infighting and backstabbing, but it seems the right in Liverpool are at it hammer and sickle as mayoral D-day approaches.

Firstly, Quiggins owner Peter Tierney has decided that the British National Party was a little too warm and fuzzy for his tastes, and has broken ranks to put himself up as the National Front candidate.

And surely the riches he has procured from selling the exotic wares of the world (which he is more willing to accommodate on these shores than he is the people who probably originally crafted them) will come in handy where paying for the campaign is concerned.

NORMALLY a race must be run before anyone can identify the winners or losers, but where the elected mayor campaign is concerned, contestants have been falling before even the first fence.

First Phil Redmond announced he would not be standing, and now Herbert the hairdresser has pulled out before the traps have even opened.

Mr Brocklebank has speculated on occasion that perhaps Herbert was under the impression the new mayor would be entitled to wear the ceremonial bling (which they won't).

SO, the question on very few people's lips has been answered, that being of whether Phil Redmond would be standing as elected mayor of Liverpool.

The answer being no.

The other question of whether he ever really had any intention of running at all is still up for debate as far as Mr Brocklebank is concerned, but the squire suspects Phil may be playing a longer-term strategy.

THEY say all political careers end in failure, but some - as in the case of Warren Bradley's son Daniel - end in failure before they even begin.

The saga of Daniel's phantom candidacy has ended with Bradley senior being convicted of perjury, and while it was undoubtedly a very sorry affair for all involved, Mr B couldn't help but raise a confused smile at comments from Cllr Bradley's solicitor James Murray.

Ex-councillor himself Mr Murray said the case was a "complete tragedy" and claimed that Daniel had agreed to be a "paper candidate" for the Lib Dems in the city's Central Ward, seemingly explaining why Dad "witnessed" son signing the forms before Daniel was due to put his own moniker on them.

THE world of politics is awash with phrases which go in and out of fashion, depending on the threats and opportunities an era presents.

Needless to say that in the current climate of swingeing Tory cuts being visited upon the heads of Liverpool's impoverished population, there is a sense that those charged with trying to manage the city's dwindling fortunes comment often privately that they feel they have been "s--t on from a great height".

THERE is common sense. There is horse sense. And then there is council sense.

In recent days it has emerged that Liverpool council had put the office in which disabled people are assessed for their eligibility for a blue badge parking permit on the 13th floor of a car park.

Naturally. Where better? Granted, motorists can drive some of the way up to the 11th, but the real killer has to be the fact that, once the candidate has driven up to the 11th, there are then two flights of stairs to negotiate.