For some time now, the macro pre-electoral strategy of Labour has been straightforwardly Napoleonic; never interrupt your enemy when they are making a mistake. A rich buffet of mistakes. A carnival float parade of blunders, incompetence, crookedness and circular firing squads. Labour’s plan has been a masterclass in patience. The
Words, they say, matter in politics. In our social-media hyper-scrutinised age, they matter more than ever. Aha, proclaim the AI-enabled, bot-powered, algo-assembled armies, you said “sustainable” and now you say “lasting”. Gotcha, they cry, you said “nationalisation” then but “public” now. These semantic split hairs are supercharged to the tectonic
It is hard to decide which will prove to be the greater crime, in these circles. To acknowledge the singular influence of a justly popular (NB not ‘populist’) Tory, or (and I suspect it is this) to acknowledge the singular influence of a mid-table Premier League club that co-habits a
The Second Law of Thermodynamics. I know, bear with me. It governs entropy, the natural and unrelenting process whereby everything is coming apart, degrading, disintegrating. It quantifies the amount of energy required to merely keep all things, very literally, from falling apart. To stop the world around us from vanishing
Across some of the world’s largest democracies, an odd consistency is breaking out. Political commentators may obsess about which outdated election is about to be reproduced. Is it a 1997 style landslide or a Canada 1992 existential wipeout? They talk with wide eyes and rose-tinted specs of the electoral heirs
There remain those around Tory HQ who believe the green shoots of spring are the only buds of Sunak’s potential rescue. They are not few in number, so let’s try on their double-breasted jackets and see if we can come to play a part and seemingly believe a position. Here,
It is no secret that our intermittently fasting, Peloton and Patagonia Prime Minister has a superfan attraction to all things West Coast. He’s more Stanford than Stafford. More Pacific Coast Highway than A1(M). It is relevant to ask, then, who Sunak’s Cali muse might be. The archetype, the personality, that
We all do it. Oh sure, we ‘might join you guys later’ for a drink after work. Even though it’s raining. Even though it’s Bake Off, and it’s bread week. Bread week. Oh absolutely, ‘we must catch up properly soon’ with eyes-a-bit-close-together dad we noticed too late and couldn’t avoid
A cautionary tale, at scale. In the end, every political campaign is a lesson in revisionism. Those that win are assumed to have been touched by genius, masterminded by a rare masterclass of orchestration. Policy and communications singing in Beach Boys harmony. Lead candidates and their deputies a Torvill and
The Shakespeare is well-located to serve as a crucial cog in Britain’s integrated transport network. The pub is just outside Victoria Station, between the grand, creaking railway terminus and the slightly less grand Coach Station. Convenient then, because when your train is cancelled and you’ve got to summon the courage
