I started my first job at Westminster in 1994, more than half a lifetime ago. Almost all of my career has been spent watching politicians, talking to politicians, writing about politicians. I covered the case for war in Iraq and the war’s dismal descent into failure. I was part of the Telegraph team writing about MPs expenses. I’ve written about more ministerial resignations, scandals, failures of public policy and abdications of leadership than I can remember. None of those failures has ever left me quite as bewildered and despairing as I am today, pondering the latest act in the national farce that is Brexit. Bewildered, despairing and surprisingly angry.
Surprisingly because I don’t often get angry with politicians. One of my many failings as a political writer is a reluctance to condemn. Maybe I’ve been captured after years of proximity and familiarity, but I generally see politicians as just as weak and flawed and human as anyone else – no better than the rest of us, but no worse either.
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