A bizarre exercise in diplomacy from Jeremy Corbyn at PMQs. He manoeuvred the PM into a tricky corner and then stepped gallantly in to disperse the trouble he’d arranged. She’d been caught violating a manifesto commitment to protect school funding. The statistics proved it too. Corbyn’s back-room elves had devised a clever way to summarise the difficulty. Averaging out the cuts will mean, in effect, that every primary school loses two teachers and every secondary loses six. It was good stuff. Danger for the PM. But Corbyn, for some unfathomable reason, decided not to pursue his advantage and he proceeded to flannel his way out of his opponent’s problem. He dithered and waffled and found himself stranded in one of his platform speeches. As platform speeches go, it wasn’t bad. It was terrible. Tone, pace, construction, delivery, emotional register – all embarrassingly poor.
Working his political oui-ja board Corbyn summoned a personality called ‘Eileen’ whom he called ‘one of our many hard-working teachers who cares for her kids’.
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