Won’t it be great when you can assume a politician is telling the truth? Or to be able to have a normal conversation about Brexit?
Yes, it’s another prime minister nobody elected, and no, nobody knows when the general election will happen or how. Sure, looked at from this vantage point, straight down the barrel of a crisis, British politics looks terrifying from the inside and extremely embarrassing from the outside. But wait: maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for hopefully the rest of my life, the Conservatives will be out of power. I can’t help it. I’m making a mental inventory of things I am looking forward to seeing the back of and then counter-qualities I can’t wait to welcome back into public life.
Won’t it be great when you can assume that someone is telling the truth? When, whatever the promise is, you at least believe they mean it while they’re saying it? It used to be so stark, calling a politician a liar made you sound like a crank; now it’s so obvious that it’s barely worth saying. The most detailed and sophisticated analysis is no better or worse than the most blunt and half-awake: “These people don’t tell the truth.” It’s like a tiger has walked into your kitchen; your hot take would be exactly the same as your dog’s. You wouldn’t even need language for it, you’d just both make a face: “Uh oh, that’s bad.”
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
