Fatal Idée Fixe

BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN

Sport teaches us the consequences of changing parameters. From racing – the softness of the turf. From fly-fishing – the entomology of larvae. From cricket – final innings, spinner-exploitable pitch cracks. In short, there are horses for courses, flies for certain rivers and months; on cloudy days some bowlers worth shining the conker for. Parameters are rarely if ever fixed entities.

The sport of politics is no different, although the possible varieties of parameter on a river – by nature fluid – are surely more numerous than those ever available to politics. The Opposition fashioning a leader for the next decade should be a simple match between conditions and opponent – only those afflicted by an idée fixe, a dearth of talent, or a superabundance of subjective wallies could possibly muck things up. The chances of having all three conditions present simultaneously is highly improbable – such a frightful cocktail of circumstance would be a blessing indeed for any incumbent party.

The Labour Party – the Hijacked Labour Party – has disintegrated as one would expect it to after a thorough drubbing at the polls. In fact there is no Labour Party as such anymore. The Far Left so dominates the old entity of Hardie that the party is now the battered and tyre-less vehicle of momentum-less Momentum. The key unions are so riddled with those of a Corbynite persuasion that there shall be no Kinnock moment. The Blairites have run for the hills and now cluster in echo chambers blaming the Russians, or hide in placer roles inside environmental charities and mayoralties.

Introspection is non-existent. You simply cannot navel-gaze whilst still wearing a McDonnell jumper used for years as go-to facade. You do not run a flat race with a fat jockey. Trout and grayling in diddy, little streams off the Exe are scared by beanpole rods. Few spinners are of any use on marble. Labour now inhabits a parallel universe – in all aspects it’s stuffed – its absolutist delusions of purity continue their pattern of self-immolation as if in homage to Algerian Islamists, while its electable cadres are long since dispatched by zombie Corbynites. This is a party as Britain has never seen – incapable of trade-off.

Labour supporters must wonder what the hell has happened? Secretly even the most extreme of the diehards must be put off by Jon Lansman’s capitalist largesse, by Len McCluskey’s penchant for costly champagne and Jeremy’s multiple family businesses? How can they sit in the same room let alone worship at an altar to them? At least Conservatives can live with their leaders’ idiosyncrasies – Boris’ holiday in Mustique and Jacob’s dividends in the millions are rewards for those who admire the myriad of successes attributed to capitalism. How do those Labour Party anti-racists now live with themselves knowing their Corbyn-backing tweets are permanently screenshotted in the ether – forever associating them with one of the bloodiest racisms of them all, with antisemitism?

How grim.

grim

To be a Labour supporter still – after all that has come out – is to be dirty, mad and bigoted. Or hypocritical. It must be a painful thing to be a useful idiot so denuded and exposed – worse for those of them that joined the undemocratic bandwagon of Remoan and lost twice so thoroughly. Hanging around in such a fetid rabble is bad enough – thinking that one of the remnants shall lead you out of the egesta and into the promised land of power is now certifiable eidolon.

Rachel, Keir, Ian, Richard, Emily, Jess, Dan, Lisa, David, Yvette – all sheep running at a donkey derby, fooled into thinking they can run the Grand National of a General Election in five years’ time. Deluded Dolly looks into the mirror and sees Red Rum.

A prediction for the 2020’s?

The Labour brand shall be annihilated forever. The stain to which Blair now refers is in fact an open wound which opponents shall exploit over and over until there is nothing left at which to slash – the Far Left shall turn heel and rush to return to their box only to find that in this digital age there is no longer a box to hide in. Meanwhile the slashers shall move onto Sturgeon and the SNP. A new, electable and national opposition shall emerge from within the Conservative Party to govern – only after Boris is done and has made his final error of poll tax proportions. The SNP shall be smashed aside like a Fiat Panda by this new unionist juggernaut in Scotland. Brexit shall be a phenomenal success, buoyed by flight capital from the East seeking safe harbour and a revived Special Relationship aided by reinforcement of what the Americans have always been so jealous of – the Commonwealth and the Monarchy. The greatest threat to this positive sea change shall come from the embedded administrative state enforcing Blair/Brown poison pill policies – even they will be exposed and excised in time following massive investigations into corruption across DFID, the NHS and other departments pilfered over the years.

Happy New Year to You All.

 

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