Jeremy Corbyn managed – just – to find someone to sit next to him. He didn’t talk to Tom Watson (who’s gamely riding out the worst post-Glasto comedown conceivable), instead turning his head towards the less dangerous Kate Osamor. He then exchanged a few words with the surely harmless Clive Lewis, and some more with Dennis Skinner. Watson was blanked.
It’s times like this that one thinks of Tony Benn’s take on the Labour Party. The party, philosophised Benn, is like a bird, dependent on both its two wings to fly. The similarities don’t stop there. Both tend to migrate to second homes in sunnier climes over summer, living in comfortable nests far above the general population. And of course both have a tendency to crap on the British public from a great height. But I digress, Benn’s point stands, and right now those two wings couldn’t be further apart.
The Prime Minister’s frontbench was little better. The Chancellor, who has visibly aged by about twelve years since the Referendum result came in, opted to sit this one out having made two whole public appearances since Thursday. Squirrelled away in Number 11, George must have spent the time being consoled by the finest Peruvian imports (a last hurrah before it became an even more costly pastime with the pound crashing).