A new haircut, a decent suit and some gym time has removed much of the look of a pallid furtive onanist from George Osborne. But not all. People probably still hesitate for a second before shaking his hand, without really knowing why. And when even old Charles Moore, establishment stalwart, pens a column for the Telegraph headed "The Chancellor has little purpose beyond his own political success" you know that he hasn't really got the party behind him.
Still, the fact that people don't want them has never been a barrier to ambitious politicians. Look at Gordon Brown, who imagined he had the qualities to be Prime Minister. If Osborne steamrollers all opposition, pulls dirty tricks galore and calls in whatever he's holding over Cameron then he may still conceivably become PM, and will then face the same sort of blistering, withering hatred both from his party and from the country that Brown faced. Thus is the price of misguided ambition in Britain.
Opposite him in the house sits the Fat Man, ready to stab his own leader in the back whenever his sports-leisure coat leaves a gap. A huge rancid steaming turd of a socialist, Watson is biding his time and keeping his gob shut in the hope that ambition alone will allow him to step into Corbyn's sports-leisure shoes when the time comes. His ambition is almost as misplaced as Osborne's; no-one wants Watson, either.
At a time when Britain faces challenges as deep and critical as those of the 1930s, this is what we have; two third-rate potential political leaders sans quality whom no-one likes and no-one wants , whose selfish self-interest may foist themselves upon us. God help us.