My oh my. She’s gone from an evening of bunking off to straight up super-villainy. Rightly or wrongly, she’s identified the opposition leader as the most credible threat to her position (her judgement is almost definitely off. The events of this week have shown that there’s a depressingly populist successor waiting in the wings, impatiently tapping at his watch to hurry up his warm up act. And there are one or two others who clearly wouldn’t mind a shot at the crown).
But Theresa’s chosen to zero in on Corbyn. He’s proven to be surprisingly effective at enthusing the young people and alienating the old guard. There’s those who love him, loathe him and folk like me who are somewhere in between not quite feeling the joy and therefore he’s definitely a Jeremy who must be stopped at most reasonable though not all costs.
I suppose she’s got her reasons. They probably even make some level of sense to her. It’s easy to imagine that our Prime Minister considers herself to be in something of an impossible position. She’s got all manner of options, of course, it’s just that she doesn’t particularly fancy any of them. Instead, she’d much rather plot increasingly cartoonish schemes to do away with her pesky Labour counterpart.
Falling on her own sword is quite certainly utterly out of the question. She could scrape together the remaining fragments of political capital she has left in order to subvert the dubious will of the people and reverse Brexit. Maybe. It’s not like she’ll still be in place come the next General Election anyway. Would it really kill her to retrieve her principles from whatever cupboard she’s stashed them in so that she can save the country from its worst instincts in flushing all its prospects down the toilet. Instead she’s painting tunnels on the sides of walls and that sort of thing. Sigh.