WRITING this in Walton-on-the-Naze, part of the Clacton constituency, after a very busy day last Thursday. 

It all began early afternoon, hanging round for ages next to Worthing Pier alongside Labour comrades from both our local constituencies, East Worthing & Shoreham and Worthing West, waiting for Feargal Sharkey. 

Feargal was the singer of the legendary Undertones, whose single Teenage Kicks I must have played at least 50 times during my 14-year tenure as stadium announcer and DJ at Brighton & Hove Albion. His quavering vocal style was unique and brilliant, making him one of the greatest punk vocalists of all time.

These days, however, he’s an environmental campaigner, dedicated to cleaning up our seas and rivers and ending the literal shitshow of profiteering water companies. My wife Robina and I live next to Shoreham Harbour, a few hundred yards from one of Southern Water’s most disgusting sewage outfalls, and as a lover of the sea, lifelong sea angler and loather of corporate polluters, his mission is a subject very dear to my heart. 

He’s currently doing a Labour Party sponsored election tour of affected areas, and that very much means all of us here on the Sussex coast, from Brighton through to Worthing and beyond. He was due to make an appearance last Thursday at 1.30 — and I was very keen to meet him for reasons both punk and poo related. 

So I gathered up all the props I had used in previous demonstrations outside Southern Water’s offices in Worthing (fishing rod with squidgy turd on the line courtesy of my friends at the National Poo museum, “Fishermen against Faeces” placard, beautifully brown National Poo Museum umbrella) and joined my comrades waiting for a legend.

But Feargal was an hour late — and I had another pressing engagement that day, campaigning against another kind of sewage: the political variety. Following Farage’s decision to stand in Clacton I’d been invited by some long-suffering locals to do a gig there opposing everything he represents and was very happy to do so, alongside my long time mucker, the wonderful local poet and musician Martin Newell.  

I know the state of the M25 at rush hour, and that if I waited to meet Feargal I’d probably miss my gig. So after the photo here I reluctantly headed off to Clacton. I was right to do so: the 130-mile journey took me four hours. Feargal duly arrived and as well as making a vital stand for the environment made a lot of old punk rockers very happy. Thanks for everything you are doing, mate. 

Poor Clacton. For years they were saddled with a Ukip MP, now they’re threatened with Farage. To make things worse the national Labour Party office has told their local candidate, the impressive Jovan Owusu-Nepaul, not to campaign. A ridiculous decision, especially since the split in the right wing vote could allow him to slip through and win. But his supporters were there, determined to carry on campaigning. Good luck to them. 

Martin and I had a great gig in a lovely bookshop and performance space called The Nose — and we had my second anti-sewage protest of the day, as the picture shows. Good luck, Clacton. I’ll be thinking of you on polling day. 

Forget Truss and the lettuce: it’s now possible to buy milk which will outlast the Tories. Kick them out next Thursday, and then the real battle begins.