Every new British premiership is baptised in tears of joy and exultation. Glad confident morning! But all end in tears of sadness, anger and recrimination. The only issue is how long the incumbent will hold out before the Grim Reaper bangs his scythe rudely on the door of No 10 to cart them off.
How do we let the pageant and rituals of the transition deceive us into dreamily forgetting its essential impermanence? Picture it now. On 5 September Liz Truss (we assume) will sweep back from Buckingham Palace and stride to the lectern in Downing Street to read a speech that will delight and infuriate. “I have just returned from seeing Her Majesty…” Previous baptismal PMs have choked out words about school mottos, their religious beliefs and parental aspirations. Truss will speak about her journey, and her intentions for power. The door will close behind her and the broadcasters will intone: “Now at last, facing the most serious problems of any incomer in living memory, the hard work begins.” Indeed.
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