I am trying to remember if there was ever a worse Conservative election campaign than this current dog’s breakfast — and failing. Certainly 2001 was pretty awful, with Oliver Letwin going rogue and Thatcher sniping nastily from behind the arras. It is often said that 1987 was a little lacklustre and Ted Heath had effectively thrown in the towel in October 1974. But I don’t think anything quite matches up to this combination of prize gaffes and the robotic incantation of platitudinous idiocies.
To have suggested that the hunting with dogs legislation might be subject to a free vote in the House of Commons was, whether you are pro hunting or against, a move of quite stunning stupidity. Why alienate that 84 per cent of the electorate opposed to fox-hunting (Ipsos-Mori, 2016), especially when some of them (including me) are quite passionately anti-hunting and might be tempted to change their vote? And when you already have the pro-fox-hunting votes in your grasp? It makes no electoral sense.
Still more remarkable was the decision to force demented people to sell their own houses, if they can remember where they are, to pay for their own care. Followed very shortly by an embarrassing U-turn.
This was passed off by the Tories as an example of pristine honesty, of nettles being grasped in an admirably transparent manner. But, like much of the current Tory campaign, it smacked to me of two things — complacency and arrogance. It suggested yet again that Theresa May called this election convinced that almost nothing she could do or say would prevent the inevitable landslide.
I think she was horribly wrong about that. I just pray to the Lord Jesus Christ that she was not so horribly wrong that we wake up on 9 June to find that Diane Abbott is the Home Secretary, Emily Thornberry in charge of Trident, all part of a Labour-Lib Dem-Tartan Munchkin Alliance, aided by that sinister reptilian Green woman, Lucas, and Natalie Wood or whatever her name is from Wales, look you.
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