What a difference a day makes. Last week they were Masters of the Universe, smugly in control of the nation's levers of power from their metropolitan fortress, safe in their armour-plated Jags. Today Clegg is toast, a has-been, a zombie, a member of the walking dead. His manifest dishonesty and his loyalty to Brussels rather than to Britain have finished him. He'll be lucky now to get a TV debate with the Greens. Cable will probably step in to deliver the gladus blow to the neck, but he will pick his moment.
On Wednesday the MSM was united in Hate for Farage. How fickle those chip-wrappers are! Today it's Miliband's turn; it's 'Good on yer, Nigel!' today but 'Blunders that made Mr Weirdo unelectable' for Ed. Even the Grauniad recognises that his party have put Miliband 'on Notice'. And Sam Cam is probably thrusting pins into a Theresa May doll in the flat at No 11; with impeccable timing she has given Plod a kicking and seen Hooky jailed, and not one of the failed projects hidden by Downing Street can be laid at her doorstep. All it needs is for St Theresa to release the text of a letter to the PM pledging her unswerving loyalty for us to be sure that she's declared her candidacy for Cameron's job.
Charles Moore blames London - which has 12.5% of the population but 20% of Labour's members. "It is true that Ukip supporters are very concerned about immigration, but for
the most part their animus is not against immigrants themselves, but against
this occupying army of the powerful in central London. In particular, voters
have come to see all the three main parties as no more than different
brigades in the same force." concludes Moore, about three years behind the rest of us.
And the pain isn't over yet. We have all day on Bank Holiday Monday to relish with exquisite shadenfreude the discomfort piled on discomfort as the Euros are announced. I recall Viviane Reding's insufferable arrogance as she hectored us at the Royal Institution in February. I hope she's following our results. Enjoy, all.