Three months ago the idea of a fresh political group was seen as foolish. Now the tectonic plates are beginning to move
Like the Fisher King in TS Eliot’s poem The Waste Land, Jeremy Corbyn presides over the Labour Party, impotent and unable to perform his task, while behind him his kingdom turns into an “arid plain”. “I was neither living nor dead, and I knew nothing,” says another voice in the poem. This Labour ordeal cannot — and will not — go on.
Yesterday, the leader posted a video message for members urging the party to “come together now”, but the mood of the moderates is hardening. The Unite union leader Len McCluskey may describe Mr Corbyn as a “man of…
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