If Wednesday afternoon’s scenes in Parliament Square sound like a thoroughly embarrassing spectacle – a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party but with cheaper hats, and with impotent gestures instead of hot beverages – I regret to inform you that it was no less edifying than what had just happened inside.
The PM might have won the no-confidence vote, but minutes after the result was announced some colleagues were still baying for blood. With friends like these, who needs a visit from the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future?
Join our heroine on a magical adventure to convert a pocketful of magic beans into £350 million a week for the NHS. Marvel as she clambers her way into a giant pickle! Gasp as she fights off villains from stage left and right! Clap your hands if you believe in Brexit, and bring the Chequers deal back to life!
A bleak greasy-spoon cafe with blacked-out windows in Westminster – mid-afternoon. Team Precious Union are seated round a table.
The ballot papers had been printed by the time Dennis Hof went out with a bang on his 72th birthday, and signs notifying voters that he was an ex-candidate apparently did little to dent his electoral success.
It would be unfair to compare the UK Government to the serial killer in the Saw movies, but handing income-tax powers to the Scottish Parliament was a stroke of evil genius.
If the transfer of assets from parents to their children is thwarting aspirations of social mobility, why won’t our politicians come out and say so?