Dear David, or should I call you Dave. How is it going in the world of ex-Prime Ministers?
I guess when you decided to cut and run – sorry – resign with dignity from Parliament, that you felt your legacy might last longer than the blink of an eye.
Not a chance. Although you didn’t quite leave the back door of Number 10 with a knife between the shoulder blades, the screech of brakes, and the crunch of gears to find reverse must have echoed down the back alley.
First, the positives. Gay marriage. A good thing. A very good thing. Well done. After that, not so much.
Arrogance, patronising attitudes, the total inability to answer a straight question, the ability to perform 180 degree turns without getting giddy. Those will be the real legacy.
Oh, and winning two – well one and a half really, as the first was shared – elections on the basis of a lie. You know the one. We can’t trust Labour with finance – look at the financial problems – we have to sort out their mess. The mess was the banks, the de-regulation and previous spending you had supported, and the rescue package that stopped a recession and instigated recovery was under a Labour government.
Since which time you have managed to place the UK at more risk than it has had to consider since WW2. Because you got panicked by an idiot in tweed with a pint and a cigarette. I was going to say fag but that would no doubt take you back to happier days of weird rituals in privileged educational establishments.
So, your real legacy will be Brexit. Maybe not as dramatic as Blair’s legacy of an illegal war, but possibly just as catastrophic.
In the meantime, Theresa is busy erasing your fingerprints from the political arena. Grammar Schools. The BBC. And now you are blamed for the mess in Libya.
History is a hard master. Especially when you try to write it yourself and fail. Badly.
And, in case you were wondering, this is not coming from a place of sympathy. None at all. Just saying.
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