Battling for the soul of my party
So, in my inimitable way, I went out last night and got happily drunk. Said drunk excursion commenced with chatting with several of my MA students. It turns out that one is a member of the Labour Party, and voted for Jeremy Corbyn last summer. He’s not now. Nor am I, even though I voted for him with some questionable eloquence last summer.
Over the course of the evening, which involved a lot of music and alcohol, and a free ride home courtesy of the Devon and Cornwall Constabulary, I spoke to five members of the party, none of whom I knew were members before chatting with them (hence they’re not very active in said party). In this non scientific sample, they all will not vote for Jeremy. Their reasons vary. Two didn’t in the first place, yet three did. Ultimately it came down to rationality. As the (second, I was there for the shift change) bartender at my local said, “I joined the party so we could win and make a difference. We can’t win with this guy.”
Yesterday morning, the results of the council by-elections were filtering down, and the Corbyn faithful focussed on one result in particular:
One of the comments read “There were other wonderful results too.”