I quite like, in spite of myself, that Captain Hindsight line the Tories sometimes wheel out.
As an attack on Keir Starmer it’s never cut through so has little menace. Mildly amusing, it reminds me of nicknames my grandad used to dish out, or that Harry Enfield character.
I know a bloke like that in real life. I went to him once for some advice after getting myself in some sort of inescapable jam.
He listened sagely as I told him the extent of the problem then said: “Yeah. I wouldn’t have done that.”
The worst people in the world, the hindsight crew. Which is why I’m trying very hard not to sound like that. It might be impossible, but let’s try.
This week the Prime Minister Boris Johnson went to Scotland.
He used the opportunity to tell a Margaret Thatcher joke which, in terms of misjudging your audience, is up there with Ratner.
Mr Johnson said: “Thanks to Margaret Thatcher, who closed so many coal mines across the country, we had a big early start and we’re now moving rapidly away from coal altogether.”
Then he laughed.
It was immediately seized on. How could he? What kind of person is he? Does he not realise? Does he not care?
This is where the hindsight bit comes in. I’m trying not to rub it in that, you know, we were all warned.
Mr Johnson is not a loveable, cheeky, bumbling, cartoon character. He is vicious, self-interested, self-absorbed.
This Thatcher joke should help to make it clear what kind of person the country chose, what all the warnings were about. Closing the coal mines was devastating.
For Mr Johnson, safely cocooned in the Bullingdon Club at the time, it was all a joke. All of it is just a joke. He is not interested in me, you, your family, your friends.
He doesn’t care about the environment, the economy, education. It’s all just a joke.
Problem is, that as Boris embraces Thatcher, so Mr Starmer embraces Tony Blair. Not sure how that helps Labour. It is impossible to get across to the political elite just how unpopular those figures are.
Blair is tainted, widely and wildly despised. The people that clamour for his return – God help us – would have had a poster of him in their bedrooms growing up.
They are not like you or I. They are playing a different game.
We now have a choice between the descendants of Thatcher or Blair, and I understand people’s frustration with both offering so little in the way of progress or optimism.
It’s like working in a laundrette then getting a transfer to a posher launderette. For the first few weeks you’re washing Armani suits and that seems marginally more pleasant.
But that wears off quick and you look around and you’re still working in a launderette.
I must add: this is just a metaphor and definitely not me denigrating anyone who works in the laundry business. Not for a second. They do an important job and are fine people.
The woman who works in the one I used to go to is in her late sixties.
A couple of New Year’s Eves back she went out in Soho, had quite a time of it, and woke up two days later in Brighton. She was my hero. Still is.
