After two years of hogging it, not just to her own party but sometimes even to her own chest, the arch control-freak Theresa May was finally forced to open up the debate to other parties. She said it, in public, in front of the House of Commons, in front of millions of television viewers. Jeremy Corbyn stands up. Time to make a moment. He will never have the world looking at him like this. And what do we get? More blether. The heart sinks. More blether. We’re not listening.
Here’s what you should have done, Jeremy.
You step forward. don’t rush it. Wait till the racket dies down. Do what Adolf Hitler used to do. Wait till people start to wonder what’s up. Then look at your wrist to your imaginary wristwatch. Look across to the speaker of the House. Say What time are we finishing here? John Bercow will say: At eight o’clock or in fifteen minutes or whatever he wants. Then Jeremy Corbyn says. How long has she had again? Two years? All right. Then look across the despatch box to her. I’ll see you at a quarter past eight out the back there. Then sit down. Say no more. No blether.
Imagine how remarkable that quiet business-like manner would be. It would be headlines all over the news. Instead we get more old rhetoric. You wonder who works with these politicians on their communications.

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