Into the breach steps the face that launched a thousand suckers, James Dyson. He wants the country to shake the dust off its feet so that he can clean up at the next election, sweep into power and blow away the cobwebs.
The British Prime Minister’s job, like the England football manager’s job or BBC political analyst, is a poisoned chalice that few right-thinking people would go near. The right candidate needs balls of steel and cast-iron conviction. Sadly, Theresa May’s conviction is more parking ticket than 10 year stretch, and Jeremy Corbyn is less balls of steel, more ballbarrow.
Dyson’s cleaners work on the principle of a swirling vortex which creates a powerful vacuum, an apt metaphor for politics today. Only the most stubborn and persistent politicians survive in the rarefied atmosphere created by rising volumes of hot air.
Any meteorologist will tell you that vast, swirling masses of hot air leads to massive cyclones. It has been suggested that the recent devastating hurricanes in the USA were conceived in the turbulent atmosphere created by Donald Trump.
Dyson is an arch-Brexiteer. A former advocate of the Eurozone, he now resents being bullied by the Germans. He is evidently annoyed that his latest five litre, twelve cylinder, turbo diesel cleaner, inspired by German engineering prowess, is deemed too powerful for domestic use by the EU. Dyson presumably advocates Brexit as a form of petty revenge.
The vacuum at the top has laid bare the shabby patches in the fabric of Westminster. Instead of being brushed under the carpet, sideshows like Jacob Rees-Mogg and UKIP have gained unwarranted attention. In a more confident age they would have been treated like colourful jokes with all the credibility of the Monster Raving Loony Party.
Theresa May recently gave a keynote speech to a virtually empty room. Who knows what she said? In the vacuum of space no-one can hear you scream.
