Gloating Haiku

Mark Wadsworth points out in my previous post that I might be a trifle long-winded, and implies that brevity can be the soul of wit: wisdom painfully contradicted by irritable former girlfriends.

James Higham is a little kinder, but still all that got me to thinking that perhaps - just perhaps - a shorter post might do the trick for a change.

Here’s Polly Toynbee, perhaps taking a break from editing Practical Villa Maintenance, to confess (stealthily in self-exculpatory prose that the unreformed Left must use) that Labour's game is up. The public finances are bust. And, without in any way expressing any responsibility for the mindset that she has spent an adult lifetime inserting into the echoing skulls of the British political class, she's really saying, ‘Labour were wrong to do what I’ve been telling them to do forever, it’s been noticed, but I’m jolly well not going to admit that, and instead will blame only the banking arm of the UK’s bricks-and-mortar Darien Venture.’

Enjoy it as she squirms.

Meantime, here’s my view of Polly’s squirming finger in the manner of the people who gave The Bridge on the River Kwai to the world and then and sold us the DVD players with which to watch it.

Guilt’s tears dissemble.

Outsize pantsuits stay unpressed

‘This was not my plan.’