Holding their breath, curbing their enthusiasm, Labour people do their best not to burst out singing. High command bans glee and gloating, yet everywhere people exchange jubilation and frank astonishment at last week’s Tory conference bedlam.
That ship of fools reminds all who fret at Labour’s disciplinarian tight ship what the alternative looks like. Captain Ruthless at the wheel has taken them on a gruelling journey from the Corbyn cataclysm, throwing overboard any crew with a hint of mutiny in their eye, all new candidates on-message vetted.
