the corner office

The usual disclaimer: I avoid writing about politics, but elections are a special treat, and leadership elections even more so, and anyway, I think they're as much about human nature as they are about politics. With that out of the way...

The poisoned chalice has claimed its next victim. Exit Sir Keir, poor man: into power in 2024 with a stonking majority, and yet two years later, everbody hates him. And into Number 10: Andy Burnham, with a smile and a wave, to cheers and hope; everybody loves him.

Sir Keir now gets to spend his days pondering what went wrong, what could he have done differently, why Andy, etc. Were I to bump into him on the street, looking a little sad and forlorn (him, not me), I'd say "my guy, I hate to be the one to say it, but your voice is a bit, you know... , and frankly you stood no chance against Andy's buttery smooth Northern accent."

(And depending on exactly how sad and forlorn, and how ready for another truth bullet or two he looked, I might throw in a little "and really, you should've known better and let that be a lesson to you and all who step up to that chalice for a swig.")

But Sir Keir might also take heart: vibes, polo shirts and insurance-advert-accent homeliness get you only so far. The country's problems are all still there, and knives will be sharpened again before long.

And for the rest of us? Well, the world is changing, and if Andy Burnham is the country's only defence against populist crazies to the left and right, then as with Sir Keir before him, all we can do is wish him luck, no matter how much he pushes up our taxes, and hope he doesn't stuff everything up too badly.