For the last five years, I’ve been trying to get people interested in the Fixed Term Parliaments Act. No, don’t sidle away. Honestly, this is The Spectator. Aren’t you meant to be into this sort of thing?
It’s not as though we’re on a date, for God’s sake. It’s not like we’re in a restaurant and the starter has just come, and I’m droning on about the threshold for a vote of no confidence, and you’re draining your third huge glass of red and thinking, ‘This guy looked waaaay more fun on Tinder. Next time I go to the loo I’m climbing out the window.’ That’s not how it is. No it isn’t. Pay attention.
The thing is, we’re living in the past. We were even living in the past in the past, by which I mean a more distant past, in a past that has only just… gone… past. Hell, you’re drifting off, aren’t you? Right.
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