The Labour party is now so broken, so foaming and fitting it’s calling Harriet Harman a Tory. She is supporting the idea that the state shouldn’t necessarily be paying benefits for impecunious women to have twelve children. This makes her Norman Tebbit in a frock.
She stood up at PMQs to long Conservative cheers, applause, acclaim. How pleased they were with her. “One of us! One of us!”
The Speaker, now a toad beneath the Tory harrow made no attempt to control them. His livelihood is dependent on pleasing his erstwhile enemies who had been his erstwhile friends and who are currently his masters.
Harriet, in her big white power jacket, looked better and sounded more leaderly than any of the leadership candidates. She doesn’t have Cooper’s vinegary misery-mongering, or Burnham’s SpAd mentality, and she’s got fifty kilos on Kendall. That’s all good. She’s also fractionally less left wing than front runner Jeremy Corbyn. Labour could do worse than Harriet. And almost certainly will.