A MANIFESTO is usually launched or unveiled. Policies are announced, declared or even proclaimed. These are dramatic words for a dramatic occasion as befits an important document.

A “manifesto” is from a Latin word for “a piece of evidence”. It is all about showing unequivocally where you, or your party, stands.

Even the Tamworth Manifesto, which was the first modern manifesto aimed at drawing a party together behind a common position, was issued in 1834 by Sir Robert Peel – “issued” suggests how it was deliberately placed into the public domain for all to see.

But Labour’s manifesto has been leaked. It has seeped out before it has been completed. That is embarrassing. If you can’t keep control of the release, be it a launch or an unveil, of your own manifesto, it doesn’t augur well for your running of the country.

It is, though, a surprisingly detailed document, and although it has been condemned by the right-wing media for being “red in tooth and claw”, there is much that is commendable in it, right down to saving the bumble bee and introducing free wifi on trains.

Above all, it fulfils its function of telling us precisely about the position of the Labour Party as it goes into the election. It tells us that there are two Labour parties fighting the election: one that will rally behind Jeremy Corbyn and his manifesto, and one which cannot.

The one word that won’t be found in the leaked manifesto is “disunity” but that is what is stamped across every page just like the word “draft”.

ELECTIONS are great because the word “bellwether” is dusted down and employed on every political broadcast. This week both Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn have been marauding around Yorkshire because the county – particularly the West Riding – is packed with bellwethers.

In political terms, a bellwether is a seat that is winnable by either party depending on their popularity at the moment. It indicates which direction the political wind is blowing in throughout the rest of the country. Therefore, it is important for a party leader to set the weather in a bellwether.

However, in its original terms, a bellwether has nothing to do with the weather. A “wether” is a Saxon word for a male sheep, or ram – particularly for a castrated ram. In medieval times, a bell was hung around the neck of the wether, and all the other sheep followed the “belwedyr”. The sound of the bell on the bellwether therefore indicated the direction in which the flock was heading.

I WAS also delighted to read in a national newspaper that Theresa May was “cock-a-hoop” at the success of the Conservative candidate Ben Houchen in the Tees Valley mayoral election.

Cock-a-hoop indeed.

There are two explanations as to where this triumphant word comes from. The later one concerns a self-important cockerel crowing with exaltation. The earlier, and more likely, one goes back to the days when a cock was a tap – in most homes, you will find – somewhere – a stopcock.

In times of great excitement, the cock was removed from a barrel of ale and placed on one of the cooper’s hoops that held the barrel together. Therefore, with the cock on the hoop, the ale was free-flowing and limitless and everyone abandoned themselves to reckless enjoyment.

I can imagine no one less likely to lose themselves in an orgy of reckless rejoicing than strong, stable and steadfastly sober Theresa May.