Election '97: 'Vote, then leave the polling station. Do not hang around for cappuccino'

When I was 16 my two big passions were the Labour Party and the Manic Street Preachers. In both cases I have spent the last year sniffing, "Yeah, I used to like them ... before they went all commercial and the message was watered down". The former, in an attempt to woo floating Tory voters, the latter to win over disillusioned Celine Dion fans.

I am the sad teenager who likes a band/political party until it looks as if they can actually win Brit awards/control of the country. And, voting for the first time yesterday, I could not go with Labour. They are too corporate. They are too Capital Radio.

Instead, I voted for the most radical of the contenders: the Liberal Democrats. I voted against the Tories, for a party considerably more left wing than new Labour. I do not want to be one of those people who moans "Well, I'd vote for them if they had a chance of getting in." Here is a chance, I reasoned: it is mine and I am giving it to them. I walked to the polling station with a spring in my step and a newspaper in my bag because I was sure there would be queues. Nope; 9.30am and just me. Why had I got up early to wash my hair? I wanted to look nice for the ballot box, I guess.

All my life I've waited to vote. Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined it could be this ... underwhelming. The rules tacked to the wall said "Cast your vote. Leave the polling station". Do not hang around for cappuccino. I was vaguely expecting a medal. Not for voting Liberal Democrat: if my friends kept their word, I'm hardly the only one. But for turning up at all. Because the ones who are kind of my friends but who I also kind of want to kick in the shins are all still saying "Why bother voting? They're all the same".

They are absolutely not all the same and deciding between Labour and the Liberals was tough. It came down to single issues and personalities. Paddy Ashdown has said emphatically that the homosexual age of consent should be 16, whereas Tony Blair did not even turn up to vote on it. It reminded me that there is an element to the Labour Party that hates gays and women.

And because John Prescott was rude to me and my friend Barbara at the Brit awards, even though we love him, and drunkenly told him so. Staggering to the toilets we spotted a big, grumpy looking man with his arms folded across his chest. "Oh my God! It's John Prescott!" I squealed, before adding "but it might just be one of Oasis's bouncers". Barbara marched up to him and demanded "Excuse me, are you John Prescott or one of Oasis's bouncers?" "I'm John Prescott" he hissed. "Oh, my mate likes you." "Oh," said John, through gritted teeth and ran like hell. Strike two against new Labour.

Don't get me wrong: I'm thrilled for Blair. I just hope he's not going to get accidentally locked in the toilet so Robin Cook can take over. And I'm glad I voted Liberal Democrat. Still, the impersonality of the voting booth. the way I was practically shoved out of the door as soon as it was done. Oh Paddy, do ring me and tell me you weren't just using me for my nubility.