“Sir Keir Starmer’s conference speech began with the Labour leader doused with glitter. But delegates thought he sparkled, with rapturous applause as his oration reached its climax. Sir Keir dared the party in the hall to disagree with him by praising the achievements of New Labour, vowing reform of public services and leading a standing ovation for Israel. No one did. Labour has been traumatised by the power struggles of the last few years, and the last thing on members’ minds was to disrupt the address of the man who, if the polls are to be believed, will be Britain’s next prime minister.”
No, all the delegates who might have challenged his policies, especially on Israel, have been thrown out of the party.
For the first time in my life, I’ll be voting Tory.
Let me explain…
We’re screwed regardless who wins. Policy stays the same. Keith tucked folks up in both 2017 and 2019. 2017 was fag paper close (Labour stole defeat from the jaws of victory).
So, considering I went with things like haircuts to pay those daft Corbyn fees, I figure Keith’s gotta earn it. My Tory vote means he needs two to win.
I’d prefer not to take part ala Carlin. But I owe Keith and this seems to be all I have. Defiance.
Forgive me for not clicking through to the Graun’s hero worship. What can this distinctive pitch be?
If modelling the ideal middle-class persona, then, yeah, he’s got that down to a tee. To wit: a facade of compassion and caring, protecting the vulnerable, slogans and pronouns all present and correct, but with that stiletto barely concealed should anyone dare question popular wisdom. Whatever that might be at a particular point in time.
As you say Evvy, he has completed his putsch, waited for the current regime to multiply implode, and need only stay alive a few more months to get his hands on the prize. Sir Kid Starver advocates siege of Gaza because . . . atrocities (wildly exaggerated). But really: he likes to see enemies suffer. It’s his ONLY schtick. And that is why bourgeoise pretend to love him so, because destroying their enemies and taking their stuff is exactly what they like to do, but in a caring way.
I’ll stick to a spoiled paper if I’m still here in Kent. Helen Whateley is the sitting MP and will no doubt win again because large swathes of the local population are absolute twunts.
If I’ve moved by GE (fairly likely) it will be to a new ‘Red Wall’ seat due to boundary changes. If Ian Lavery is the candidate, ex-NUM, he’d very likely win (large parts of the constituency are former coal mining towns: Ashington, Blyth, especially). So I might even vote for him AND for the first time in my life back a winning candidate. But it will be with nose pinched.
I can’t vote Tory - my heart would give out and they’d say it was hydroxychloroquine or bleach.
I’ll likely put the power off and put a bag over my head for the day.
I can’t vote again - the last 6 or so elections have very much been a hold your nose affair here - - but the stench is now so overwhelming that no degree pressure to the snozzer can mask the stink of political putrefaction.
The evening after Dobbin’s conference speech saw J Rees Mogg gushing to Farage about how impressed he was with the quality of the current political class - - extraordinary it was, and it struck me as a desperate bid to shore-up the old Overton window.
Well, for me luckily, I’m stateless so I don’t have to consider the options. Having been out of the UK for more than 15 years, I’m not allowed to vote there. As I’m not a French citizen, I can’t vote in the parliamentary elections here.
Just one thought. Whatever happened to no taxation without representation?
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