WITH the national and local elections only a couple of days away, you’re probably wondering what to with the half-hundredweight of campaign leaflets you’ve had through the door.

If you’re environmentally conscious, your first thought was probably to put the lot in the recycling.

That’s what I planned to do, but then I realised that if we all did the same the trucks would have to burn extra fuel to cope with the weight.

They’d end up chugging their way to the recycling centre at a snail’s pace, belching more smoke than a tip fire and shearing off suspension components every time they hit a speed bump.

There are plenty of alternatives for disposal.

You could, for example, save them for anybody you know who likes roll-up cigarettes, especially if they prefer the extra long ones. Then they won’t have to tear little bits of cardboard from their packs of rolling papers to make filters for the ends.

I’m reliably informed that election leaflets, being made of slightly stiffened but not overly rigid paper, are ideal for this purpose. If you give your friend your entire stash of leaflets they’ll have enough to last for at least a year or two. They’ll probably be so grateful that they’ll do something nice for you in the future – assuming their short-term memory isn’t too shot for them to remember.

Another option is to take up origami. It’s an interesting and creative hobby but traditional folding papers are quite expensive, so cutting election leaflets into squares makes for a welcome free alternative.

I quite enjoy origami and the traditions and legends surrounding it. For example, it is said that if somebody folds a thousand classic model cranes they’ll be granted a wish – provided it is a peaceful and loving wish.

Personally, I plan on folding a thousand cranes bearing the faces of politicians of all parties and using them to conduct demonological investigations.

I’ll try hanging them around the doorway of the cupboard under the stairs, thereby opening a portal to Hell from which I might summon Pazuzu, Valac and perhaps even Satan himself to do my bidding. I’m a bit worried about scorch marks on the hall carpet, but it’ll be worth it if I can get hold of next week’s Euromillions numbers.

And the stench of sulphur will be as nothing compared to the litter tray when the cat’s a bit poorly.

On a related subject, if you’ve ever fancied writing a horror story, you could always rip off some of the language used by candidates in the leaflets to describe their political opponents.

Even the most frightening passages of, say, Stephen King’s Pet Sematary read like The Tale of Benjamin Bunny when set next to these terrifying accounts. If the leaflets are to be believed each candidate is fighting a lone battle against forces so evil that their representatives need special shoes to hide their cloven hooves.

Another interesting thing to do, of course, would be to keep hold of the literature sent by whichever candidate ends up winning. That means every leaflet, every pamphlet, every letter written in a blatantly fake ‘handwritten’ font to make us think the candidate cares so much that they sat down with a pen.

Then draw up a list of the pledges made and tick them off if they’re kept...