And so once more to the stump - I have been selected as the Green Party candidate for Chelsea and Westminster in the forthcoming London Assembly elections, writes Julia Stephenson.

 

I say 'selected', but if I’m honest, no one else wanted to do it – like Amy Winehouse I said 'No no no’ but the thought of green-minded burghers trotting to the polling booth on 1 May to find no Green candidate to vote for was too guilt-making.  So in a triumph of hope over experience (this is my fifth election and I’ve lost every one of them), here I am again.

I must confess I’m not an ideal candidate as I’m rubbish at canvassing.  I simply can’t face launching myself at strangers - I leave that to the chuggers in the Kings Road. (Hot tip if you want to get rid of them: just say 'Not in the street thank you!’ and they will set upon someone else.)  But at least I’m not as bad as a fellow-candidate who, when asked by a reporter, 'What are the issues on the doorstep?' replied, 'I haven't a clue, the only doorstep I've been on is my own.'

Previous elections have seen me campaigning far more energetically.  During the 2001 election, fellow candidate Hugo and I set up a stall outside Chelsea Town Hall from where we dispensed leaflets and Green cocktails made from chartreuse - a foul tasting green liqueur made by Belgian monks, raided from his mother's mouldering drinks cabinet - and champagne, garnished with a sprig of organic mint from my roof terrace. Unfortunately we were soon crushed by a stampede of winos who tottered down from World's End on the rumour of free booze.  In the mêlée a fight broke out causing our trestle table to collapse while the pavement became a sea of green liquid, soggy leaflets and smashed glass.  Insisting we were a hazard to the public, a town clerk moved us on.

 

I’m not sure if it’s really worth canvassing in Chelsea anyway - hardly anyone is entitled to vote as the streets are full of non-voting 'non-doms' and tweedy Eurotoffs raiding Partridges for exotic foodstuffs.

 

 A typical Non-Dom

 

My neighbours are very supportive of green issues, though; indeed only this morning the Croatian wife of a diminutive and stonkingly rich billionaire who lives next door told me she was so keen on organic food she had just instructed her pilot to fly their private jet back for a small bag of potatoes from their Croatian garden.  She explained that at least this will guarantee they are truly organic and super fresh.

 

Finally, my website if up and running with helpful information about all the marvellous things I would do for the peepull of Chelsea should I, by some miracle, be elected.  It was set up by the same team who designed the site for environmental lawyer Robert Kennedy.  I must confess my interest in Kennedy is not purely environmental - he has all the Kennedy oomph and charm and makes fist-wavingly thrilling speeches. 'I will see you at the barricades!' he cried memorably at Live Earth, as a million female lips trembled.   

 Ladies - form an orderly queue

I once flew to Toronto (no letters please - this was in June 2005, two months before it become environmentally incorrect to fly) to see him in the flesh.  I paid $30 to be at a sparsely-attended private reception beforehand, along with a bunch of Canadian transvestites, various Kennedy fanatics and one enormous nun.  When it came to my turn to shake his hand my knees buckled and I was quite unable to speak.  My carefully rehearsed chat about the plight of North America pigs was quite wasted.  It wouldn’t have done any good anyway as he was soon transfixed by a sexy girl with the deepest, gravelliest voice I’ve ever heard.  She had legs like milk bottles but it was scant consolation nonetheless.

 

I shall be relieved when the elections are over for then I can crack on with my eco-renovations – I have planning permission for three experimental wind turbines (eat your heart out David Cameron), solar panels and the UK’s first waterless urinal, masterminded by glamorous eco-tect to the stars, Alex Michaelis.  Things have been moving at a snail’s pace because Alex is in such demand he can’t fit me in for a site meeting for two months!  We’ll all be underwater by then if the latest glossy and gripping eco-doom movie, The Eleventh Hour, is to be believed. 

 

Dispiritingly Alexs’ client list is a Who’s Who of the good, the glamorous and the sought after.  Jemima Khan and Richard Branson are just two of them so you get the picture.  I know it’s not very green of me but I’m suffering from terrible status anxiety just thinking about it all.

 

People say I should be in no rush to get the builders in but the trouble is I already have.  My boyfriend is doing the renovations (something that everyone has reservations about but I am convinced it will bring us closer together.  Besides he’s cheap).  He is permanently in situ, leaving a trail of chip packets, fantasy football leaflets and free DVD’s culled from old newspapers which I know will never be watched but I am forbidden from throwing away.

 

After three years of indoctrination he is now impressively green, installing a wood-burning stove, fuelling his van with bio-diesel made from old chip fat, even peeing on the compost heap (it aids decomposition, since you ask).  Ladies, don’t try this at home - our pee is too acidic, or maybe this is just another one of those sexist permaculture myths we keep hearing about.

 

I’ve been making a green documentary for CNBC and persuaded him to be filmed performing this very useful task.  Not even Bobby Kennedy would do that for the planet I’m sure.  Anyway, I’ve added the footage to my website.  I’m sure he’ll see the funny side quite soon.

The Eleventh Hour is gripping stuff.  Many celebs use the spotlight of public attention solely to winge about the miseries of being famous, so hats off to the film’s creator, Leonardo DiCaprio, for using his celebrity muscle to do something positive.  Surprisingly, some of the scientists featured were optimistic in the face of the current environmental meltdown. 'It’s a great time to be alive - the challenges are really exciting!' insisted one, during footage of crashing ice caps and smouldering rainforests.  Well, that’s one way of looking at it I suppose. 

 

The general consensus is that we’re doomed unless we crack on and cut back, pronto.  The quickest way to do this is to replace our current waffling leaders with innovative ones who will take action to avert crisis.  One way to do this is vote for the Green candidate for London's Mayor, Sian Berry, but I’m stuck for my second choice as none of the remaining candidates thrill me at all. 

 

However like most women, I’m a fan of Neanderthal sex god, DCI Gene Hunt, from Ashes to Ashes.  I had a dream last night that he was co-running with Sian.  He just needs to convert his Audi to bio-diesel (made from waste chip fat not palm oil, obviously) and London would have a dream team.  George Bush - you’re nicked!