Jeremy Corbyn- the man they loved to loathe but could never be endured.

 Jeremy Corbyn- the man they loved to loathe but could never be endured. 

And so it is that we ponder on the fate on the much-despised former leader of the Labour party. While Jeremy Corbyn sits, perhaps in splendid self isolation, in a dimly lit room away from all the bullets of critics and vicious snipers who quite rightly believes that he is now full deserving of everything he gets out of life, the rest of us can take another deep breath and be infinitely thankful that he may never darken any corridor of power again. If he does the savage roars of disapproval, hatred and opprobrium may be heard again just in case Corbyn didn't hear them the first time around. 

For almost the entire year the name of Jeremy Corbyn has almost been completely forgotten if only some of us thought he'd left the country in disgrace. Corbyn's pompous self-righteousness had almost become a given when he was leader of his permanently underfire Labour party. And now the wholly objectionable Corbyn has been given the ultimate two fingers of rejection by his own party once again for allegedly distancing himself from vile antisemitism and almost criminal arrogance. 

You see according to Corbyn all of the comments he made were either wildly exaggerated or not said by quite as many people as were alleged to have made such wilful accusations. Now the truth is that either Corbyn is a vehement racist or he simply occupies some candy floss fantasy land where the fairies and the pixies play happily until tea-time. One of these days he'll be mistaken for one of Judy Garland's friends in the Wizard of Oz. 

In some blustering outburst of self serving drivel and potty bombast Corbyn rigidly sticks to his guns, insisting quite outrageously that all Jews are some of his best friends. He repeatedly asserts that no member of the Labour party either now or when he was leader of the Labour party will ever tolerate antisemitism and always condemn those who do adhere to such disgraceful ideologies. Over and over again like that cracked piece of a vinyl record, Corbyn keeps smashing that foul slur on his character out of the park and into a muddy ditch. 

Yesterday the new leader of the Labour party Sir Keir Starmer, fresh-faced, enthusiastic, good to his family and utterly respectable, gave Corbyn his marching orders. Now it is that Corbyn has been suspended, reprimanded painfully and left with a painful bruise on that massively inflated ego. No sir, Jeremy Corbyn loves the Jewish population so much that if  the chance came along he would willingly undergo conversion to Judaism. What balderdash and nonsense. Corbyn is now well and truly a shamed outcast, a genuine pariah who should be promptly be put on the first plane to some desert island where nobody can find him. And then obscurity.

The bottom line is of course that no matter how hard he tries to wangle his way back into the good books of the Jewish population, the hole he has now dug for himself is now too deep and apologies are somehow meaningless. Here is a man who openly endorsed the violent deeds of Hamas, broke bread under the Lebanese flag, smiled inanely at their followers and then had an attack of amnesia when somebody reminded him of the event. There is something of the night about the Corbyn demeanour, a man so abhorrent that you could never again listen to another word that drops accidentally from his mouth. 

So it is that Britain once throws the legal book at Jeremy Corbyn. Corbyn was the man who protested his innocence constantly while totally oblivious to his CV. You're reminded of the allegedly saintly and pure as the driven snow Jeffrey Archer, a Tory politician who shockingly maintained that he'd emerged from an American university with an official degree in a subject that he'd clearly never taken in his life and yet Archer seemed to get away with it. 

Corbyn, rather like Archer, is a very clever and cunning spiv, a devious misfit who tries his utmost to pull the wool over our eyes but only succeeds in complicating matters even more. He reminds you of that 1950s Ealing comedy film where a whole class of mischievous school-boys try desperately to prevent Ted Ray from leaving as headmaster. They use laughing gas and spray powder on his chair that makes him itch and scratch helplessly. The film now seems dated, although it does seem relevant in its way. Corbyn is very much the impudent rascal, the evil schemer, the ultimate back stabber, a man so unbearably reprehensible that perhaps even his family may have disowned him. 

And now the Labour party go away in a huddle in deep discussion, frenetically defending the party's integrity and general goodness and then casting their old leader into some embarrassingly naughty corner. If Starmer wants to know what course of action he should take then he may care to remember what happened to Margaret Thatcher when the whole of her Cabinet carried out their dastardly act of treachery by leaving a blood-stained carpet behind their once fragrant leader. Who on earth would be a politician? It's a messy business of that there can be no doubt.