"LABOUR?" growled pensioner Davie Robb outside the Centaur Bar in Easterhouse. "That lot are so hopeless that Chipperfield's wouldnae take them on as clowns."
He and his cronies wheezed with laughter as they pointed to a red and yellow poster that is hanging precariously from a lamppost.
As the by-election circus rolls into Glasgow East, it is fair to say that Prime Minister Gordon Brown's party doesn'
t have its troubles to seek.
Councillor George Ryan was on the brink of being named as Labour's candidate, but performed a dramatic last-minute disappearing act that Paul Daniels would have been proud of.
Despite having not so much as a proverbial donkey to pin a red rosette on, Labour has set up a campaign HQ at Shandwick Square Shopping Centre at the heart of this sprawling and socially-deprived constituency.
Sandwiched between Greggs and a cut-price butcher shop, the spartan base looked like its previous tenant had been Old Mother Hubbard.
A child's toy blackboard with "Get your free sticker to show your support" etched amateurishly on it gave no indication that this crucial poll could well decide whether Brown stays in Downing Street.
Unlike most voters in the area, I wanted to be cornered by a Labour activist and given a lengthy lecture on why the party will eventually deliver a bright future for Glasgow East, Scotland, the UK, Europe, the world...
But there was no chance of getting that at campaign HQ. I was halted in my tracks by an apologetic party activist.
"I'm afraid we can't speak to you without permission from the press office," she smiled before ushering me back out.
Outside, security guards in stab-proof vests trudged past Savers, Pound Express, Haddows, Why Pay More?, Cheque Centre, Farmfoods, a pawnshop and a closed down Rangers shop.
Three middle-aged woman, smoking and huddled together in the rain outside the Consul Suncenter, shook their heads when asked if they would vote. "What difference would it make, son?" said one."We cannae go outside at night because of all the kids hanging around the streets.
"I've had my windaes put in twice already, so don't even think about putting my name in the paper."
It's an area where male life expectancy is 63 and, in pockets, the jobless rate is up to 50%.
After several calls to Labour HQ I manage to get a mobile phone number for a press officer. Surely a Labour press officer will speak to the press. How naive of me.
Him: "Erm... I'm out in the field, so I really can't help just now. Why don't you try head office?"
Me: "But head office told me to call you."
Him: "Bye."
In a café, I spotted a man with a Labour sticker and clipboard having coffee.
I pounced, demanding my democratic right to be canvassed to within an inch of my life. "Have you tried speaking to the people in the campaign office?" he asked.
I trudged back to battle command where the sweetly smiling apparatchik tried to make a call to HQ on my behalf.
When permission to speak was not forthcoming, I was again politely shown the door, but this time with the consolation prize of a sticker and a £1 pack of Labour party greeting cards.
Five men outside Griers Loungebar spoke in unison when asked if they'll vote.
"No!"
"They are all bloody conmen on the make," barked one.
Back at Labour campaign HQ, a poster boasted 'Labour Party Mugs. Only £5 each!!!'. Enough said.
The full article contains 596 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
