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Health warning: the following is a long essay where I necessarily had to ‘get into the weeds’ of Labour Party politics. As you can probably imagine, that involved a journey to a certain creek with an inevitable deficit of paddles. Whether that describes the Labour Party or my ability to evaluate them is an open question. Plenty of Conservative stuff too so don’t be put off by Jeremy Corbyn, sorry, I mean obviously you should be put off by Corbyn but don’t hold it against me….
As is so often the case, a cartoonist nailed it. The Daily Telegraph carried the picture of a galloping lion; its paws gathered together, all four off the ground in that moment between one explosive bound and the next. On its back sits the figure of Britannia, pressed back to an angle of almost forty-five degrees by the lion’s momentum, one hand desperately clasping her helmet to her head, the other gamely hanging on to the Union Jack-embossed shield at her side. The lion’s face – even in profile – is unmistakably that of Boris Johnson, its mane his trademark blonde mop. The ‘Torygraph’ should know, it has been Boris’ own parish for many a decade.