WHEN I HEARD RISHI SUNAK WAS ABOUT to call the election, I went online and saw the tragic spectacle unfold in real time. I watched as the heavens opened, and then struggled to hear the Prime Minister’s voice as Steve Bray’s loudspeaker started pumping out “Things Can Only Get Better”.
Later, some schoolfriends of exactly my vintage (I turned 18 in May 1997) shared their approval of Bray’s idiocy. Apparently oblivious of the Partridge-esque nature of their exclamations, one wrote “Genius!”, and another, “Back of the net!” I tried not to alienate any more schoolfriends than I already have by commenting, “Jurassic Park!”, or “Smell my cheese”.
I was struck by just how abysmally different that moment was from May 1997, the time it was meant to conjure up. Even someone who disliked Tony Blair as much as I did could sense the freshness, optimism, and youthful exuberance
