1. The marked discrepancy - at least in the early stages - between the running totals of declared results on the BBC1 and ITV coverage (a.k.a. Dimbleby vs Dimbleby). Where BBC1 were showing just 4 results, ITV had 11. My first thought was that there had been some sort of catastrophic network crash at the BBC. Strike one to ITV! Or at least until ITV 'fessed up to screening the results in advance of the official returning officers' declarations, in a rather futile bid to be "first with all the results". But what's the use of bare results, when you can't analyse the percentages and swings to buggery and beyond? Strike one to Good Old Auntie Beeb! My restless knob-twiddling dropped off sharply from that point onwards.

2. Recognising one of the Lib Dem candidates in Birmingham from a Pride event in the late 1990s, when Chig had introduced us. What, you thought I'd let an occasion of this magnitude pass by without at least one pathetic name-drop?

3. Forgetting that it was Chig's birthday - as well as Tony Blair's, for that matter. Full marks to Blair for never once bleating "But it's my BIRTHDAY!" when things were looking rough. I could never have managed such self-restraint.

4. A grim-faced Blair looking as uncomfortable and upset as I've ever seen him, forced to stand at the back and listen while the defeated anti-war candidate Reg Keys made his excellent speech at Sedgefield, landing punch after humiliating punch. In fact, Blair looked dangerously close to crying at one point: blinking furiously and swallowing hard. No triumphalism here, thank God.

5. Stephen Twigg and his tellingly over-expressive facial expressions Part Two, as history came full circle and the Portillo-usurper became usurped himself. A little touch of Schadenfreude in the night.

6. The huge great creamy dollop of Schadenfreude which followed a couple of hours later, when that insufferable orange-skinned oaf Robert Kilroy-Silk received his long-overdue come-uppance at the hands of the good people of Erewash, polling a miserable 3,000 votes and coming fourth.

7. The black comedy that ensued when that other, rather more successful, insufferable orange-skinned oaf George Galloway steamed to a graceless victory in Bethnal and Bow - and instead of thanking the returning officer, promptly accused him of corruption. How I wish I had stayed up a little longer for Galloway's encounter with Paxman, which would have been the icing on the black comedy cake.

8. The extraordinarily low profile kept by Michael Howard, who didn't show his face until around 4 a.m. (My tip for the leadership succession: David Cameron. You read it here first.) That Sandra Howard really is radiantly beautiful, isn't she? I think she might have to be a candidate for the "mature" section in my Kissing Forest.

9. And while we're on the subject of unfortunate crushes: Alastair (sigh) Campbell. Again. You just SO would. (All that barely repressed passion, just bursting to come out. Come on, it can't just be me, surely?)

10. Future media star in the making: Adam Afriyie, the first ever black Conservative MP, who displayed a delightfully nonchalant sang froid in the face of his first ever encounter with Paxman, even making his interviewer wait while he finished his glass of water. Now, that's style.

11. Being able to pause Sky Plus whenever I went to the loo, kettle or fridge, then fast-forwarding through all the silly Peter Snow bits to catch up again. (Who did those animated graphics of the three party leaders walking up Downing Street, anyway? Were they on DRUGS?)

12. The delight of being proved wrong, as my cautious prediction of a Labour majority of 109 fell way above the eventual total of 66. If this doesn't curtail some of Blair's worst presidential excesses, then we'll just have to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

Rather charmingly, our local polling station is also the 13th century gatehouse to Nottingham Castle, which somehow survived the demolition of the original castle in the 17th century. This has the effect of making voting a rather pleasant process, in which I feel benignly connected to some sort of unbroken historical tradition. The process is made more pleasant still by the satisfaction of a) knowing that I'm voting for the right candidate and b) feeling more or less certain that he will retain his seat.

Note the use of the word "candidate", not "party". For although the cross has been placed in the Labour box as usual, the vote this time has been firmly for Alan Simpson - an unreconstructed Old Labour rebel with a voting record to match - rather than that Blair fellow or his gang of cronies. Because when push comes to shove, it's the quality of the candidate which matters to me the most - and Simpson has impressed me in the past with his unspun sincerity, firm principles, and boundless passion for politics. There is even a liberal Tory of my acquaintance who votes for Simpson, despite disagreeing with him on many/most issues, because he feels that "we need people like that in Parliament".

Which in turn makes me wonder whether there would be circumstances in which I might ever vote Conservative; and I suppose the answer would be "just possibly". If an independently minded Ken Clarke/Alan Duncan/Richard Ottaway/Boris Johnson figure were up against a Charles Clarke, an Alan Milburn, a David Blunkett, or some ghastly, faceless, vapid, careerist, obedient lobby-fodder twerp, then I might find it a perfectly easy decision to make.

But what of the Lib Dems? The great surprise of this election (and let's face it, surprises have been disappointingly thin on the ground) has been the discovery that I now agree with the Liberal Democrats on far more policies than any other party. And I'm not the only one; how many of you have completed one of those handy online survey thingies, and discovered that you too have turned yellow in the night? But how many of you have then thought: nah, wasted vote innit, and voted tactically for Labour in order to keep the Tories out?

One the one hand: keeping the Tories out has to be my prime consideration. Don't listen to those who say that "they're all the same"; bollocks they are. Howard isn't fit to form a government, and his party is guilty of jumping on any small-minded, scare-mongering, single-issue bandwagon that comes its way. Most - yes, most - Conservative policies, such as they are, scare the living shit out of me. It simply cannot come to pass.

Nevertheless, I'd like to think that I would never vote tactically for a second-best party. The basic concept of tactical voting fundamentally annoys me, as does all the surrounding talk of "wasted votes". If everyone actually voted for what they believed in - or at least favoured the most from the choices on offer - then maybe we'd have a Liberal Democrat government tomorrow. And on balance - and despite the odd lunatic policy like abolishing the Department For Trade And Industry - I would welcome that. (Tax and spend? Yeah, bring it on. And yes, I am well aware of the contradiction with my own material situation. If it was all right for me twenty years ago when I was broke, then it's all right for me now.)

Four more years of Labour, though? Despite everything, and whilst acknowledging most of my old mate Chig's points in his strongly worded rationale for not voting Labour, I can still just about live with that. Because of the economic stability, and a certain degree of improvement in certain public services (most notably the NHS, if personal experience is anything to go by), and all the gay stuff of course: equal age of consent, partnership rights, immigration rights, anti-discrimination legislation, repeal of Section 28. I won't be cheering as Blair rides back into Number Ten, but I won't be weeping either. Imperfect world, shades of grey, yadda yadda.

F***ing evil lying tossers over Iraq, mind you. To say nothing of detention without trial, and undermining of the legal system in general, and ID cards... dangerous, disturbing stuff. The sheer arrogance of it all, apart from anything else. So what I'll really be cheering for tonight is a dramatically reduced majority. Preferably to the benefit of the Lib Dems, but I guess I can also live with the odd Tory gain here and there. The much vaunted "bloody nose" effect - if it causes Blair to curb some of his wilder excesses in the next parliament, then we'll be all the better off for it.

Let's make a prediction, then. The current overall Labour majority is 161. Although the optimist in me hopes for a larger reduction, the realist in me predicts a new majority of 109. And what say you?

In order to assess the accuracy of my prediction, I will - of course - be staying up super-late tonight, glued as ever to the whole gloriously batty spectacle, revelling in the statistics, cheering and jeering until the beer runs out. Care to join me? Come on, take the morning off work tomorrow. Or ring in sick. It's your duty as an Active Citizen, or something.

(Not that I'll be doing any live blogging, mind you. Heavens above, no. Learnt that lesson with the slow descent into drunken bitch-queen madness that was last year's "live commentary" on the Eurovision semi-finals. But if you are, then good luck to you.)

Hearty congratulations to noodle vague and the gloriously be-cardiganned Naomi, who beat nine other couples to win £23,000 on tonight's National Lottery quiz show. Could it have BEEN more dramatic? I am quite worn out from all the air-punching.