So. Farewell Priti Patel. Yesterday was quite an exciting day from a political observer’s point of view. There was the anticipation of the sacking / resignation, accompanied by numerous updates on the present location of the plane carrying her back from Uganda, and then live footage of the three-car procession heading into central London.
Luckily it was a bit of a slow day in the office; the servers or network (or both?) were unresponsive, and so I had time to take my fill of reaction on Twitter and the continuous updates on the Guardian Politics Blog. By home time, I was up to speed with events.
By then, I was starting to feel a little sorry for Priti, as pretty much the eyes of the world were on her. In her position I would have felt claustrophobic, even paranoid, but then I guess I haven’t decided to thrust myself into the limelight in that way. It can’t have been enjoyable though. But, you live by the sword, and you die by the sword, and so the method of her metaphorical execution was just as public, and probably more so, as any of her successes.
It’s a slight disappointment to me, I had 25p on her to be the next PM, so I guess that’s £5 I’ll never see. I placed the bet on the logic that if such a terrible event happened, I would want to benefit in some way before everything collapsed. By the same logic, I also bet that the UK population would vote for Brexit. But I’m sure there will be some other way for me to get my money back, and it’s not over yet. Now that she’s returned to the back benches, what odds might there be on her launching a “stalking horse” campaign to unseat the PM? Hmm, who knows?
So, Westminster continues to serve up entertainment of the highest order, and I shall continue to gawk in wonder at the shameless self-promotion and blundering of our political classes. Next up, if we’re lucky, the spotlight may fall on Boris Johnson and his successes and lack thereof as Foreign Secretary. Pip pip!
TTFN
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