A cloud of unremitting gloom has descended on this blog, as we contemplate the events of the past few days. As the papers are full of the wondrous transmutation of Tory fortunes, with the ascension of the boy-child-king, the feeling is analogous to being stone-cold sober at a raving party full of drunks.
Nor is the sentiment that uncommon. Talking to a young lady sitting next to me at a recent seminar on free trade, I confided that, every time I heard the phrase, "modern, compassionate Conservatism", I felt slightly nauseous. It was some comfort that she broke into a smile of relief, and breathed, "Oh, I am so glad I'm not the only one".
But then, any Party with Francis Maude as a chairman has to be a seriously dubious organisation, but one cannot be entirely sure whether the boy-child-king is displaying a warped sense of humour in appointing Kenneth Clarke to head a "democracy task force" which, we are told, "will seek to restore confidence in politics".
What more can be said? I'm retiring to the loft to finish laying a floor, whence I am going to bray nails into some floorboards with a very large hammer. It seems the right thing to do.