'An uncertain policy prospectus'.
Thus does Pete Hoskin describe the offering to the electorate ("a blank sheet of paper") of the man who is, as far as I know, still the nominal 'leader' of the Labour Party.
'Ed' Miliband's astounding public admission that his party has nothing to say, nothing to offer, no policies at all, was both political suicide and the coup de grace to the Labour Party's electoral credibility. With one lethal phrase, he ensured his own failure and consigned his party to political irrelevance for the foreseeable future. God knows how long it will take for Labour to recover from the disaster that is Ed Miliband.
Every time he opens his mouth, Miliband provides acres of vicious copy for a contemptuous press and sufficient cause for his comrades to set about him as Caesar's 'friends' set about their emperor.
Whatever Ed 'Glottal Stop' Miliband is, he is not a leader of anything and possibly not even a politician. He has never had to do anything or prove anything. He was raised by Marxist parents in the Dutt-Paukerite salons of Hampstead to believe himself Righteous, superior and destined for greatness. He followed the well-trodden path of the bag-carrier whose devotion to a successful man ensures his own eventual preferment to the nomenklatura.
In time, he talked Red enough for the hard men of the unions to put him, faute de mieux, in his present post for their own purposes, against the will of those in Parliament who know him best.
They knew him and they did not want him. They will get rid of him. They have to. This is about survival: him or them. It won't be him.
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