What is the one word you will never hear on an election canvass in Wicklow? "No".
Asked if they can guarantee a first preference, voters in the many close-knit communities of the county will always hedge their bets.
Approached by a politician with a bad dose of election fever, their stock replies - which ring out from Bray to Arklow - are "ah sure, we'll look after you", or "well, we'll give you something anyway", or the utterly emphatic "sure don't I know you well and your father before you?"
Even if a voter holds the politician before them in utter contempt, in Wickla (as the locals pronounce it) they always let them down gently and give them a smile.
In Wicklow you are more likely to have your custard pie presented to you wrapped in tinfoil than have it smashed in your face.
Unlike other parts of the country, in Wicklow people appear to hold their politicians in some reverence. "I am delighted to have a politician living near me," local man and former Olympian Seán Drea tells Independent outgoing TD Mildred Fox during her canvass in the Delgany area yesterday.
While this is Ms Fox's local patch there is no mistaking the civility and warmth of the reception she gets going from door to door in this quaint little village.
The local butcher, Padraic Farrelly, invites her in and sings her praises, particularly her work on local education and health issues.
Ms Fox, who has been dubbed the "real Tánaiste" because of her power over the Government in the last few years, is reckoned to be in a strong position for a seat. But she was taking no chances yesterday, even canvassing a closed order of nuns in the Carmelite convent.
She says if she is elected again she is prepared to talk to anyone about getting her support, but she knows the figures this time around may not put her at the centre of events.
Her campaign team says she now operates like a old-style politician, whereas when she first entered the Dáil in 1995 she was not even sure where the voting lobbies were. Now she can glad-hand constituents like the best of them.
Whereas once she was always mentioned in the context of her late father, Johnny, now constituents talk about her alone, with many inquiring about her new baby, Caoilfhionn. "The name translates as fair and slender, and she is neither at the moment," she jokes.
Down the south of the county, Cllr Nicky Kelly, who recently signed up with the Labour Party, is canvassing near the most famous pub in Wicklow, no, not Jack White's Inn, but Fitzgerald's bar, which is the centrepiece of television hit Ballykissangel, known as BallyK by its disciples.
Mr Kelly is hoping this year will finally mark his breakthrough into national politics. As he stands on the bank of the Avoca river cars and vans beep in support and their drivers wave enthusiastically, although one shouts unhelpfully: "Don't jump in just yet Nicky".
In south Wicklow Mr Kelly is strong, but will it be enough to deliver him a seat? The presence of another strong Labour candidate, Liz McManus, makes life difficult and the presence of a third Labour candidate, Jimmy O'Shaughnessy, makes it near impossible.
But Mr Kelly says his campaign, which focuses on health, jobs, insurance costs for young drivers and transport, is drawing in voters and not just in his heartland of south Wicklow.
He says his home town of Arklow needs its own TD, which it has not had for many years. About 6,500 first preferences, he predicts, should put him "there or thereabouts".
As he speaks a train speeds past and Mr Kelly is scathing about the rail system serving the county. He describes the service to Dublin as the "Lahore express" where passengers sometimes sit in the dark and cannot get food or a cup of coffee.
"People in Avoca can see that train going past, but they have to drive five or six miles from here to get onto it," he says.