Cult of personality? The writing's on the wall.

Nothing makes Corbynistas more angry than the suggestion there are cult-like qualities to their movement and their veneration of the man they affectionately label ‘JC’. This accusation is viewed as such a slur, in fact, that on some social media channels moderated by the far left, anyone using the term ‘cult’ is deemed to be abusive and is in danger of finding themselves banned.

The evidence – specifically a cult of personality - is, however, now so strong as to be incontrovertible.

The madness reached some kind of apogee this week with the unveiling of a mural of Corbyn on his home turf of Islington.

Let’s be clear. Murals celebrating political figures are not a part of British culture, unless of course you count the streets of West Belfast, where the Labour Leader has built up a strong network of contacts over the years. I’m sure they are de rigueur in parts of Gaza City, where the veteran socialist MP counts yet more friends.

It’s difficult to establish who is the more idiotic. The people responsible for the curation of this hideous blight on the north London landscape? Or Corbyn himself – so puffed up and full of his self-importance that he actually went along to some kind of ceremony to install it.

This is, of course, just part of a much wider story.

Online, we find toe-curling memes celebrating Corbyn’s blessed humanity and philanthropy. If Mother Teresa were alive today, she’d be shocked to find that she’d been overtaken by the sage of N4 who has been on the ‘right side of history’ more often than he’s waded his way through crowds of Trotskyist newspaper sellers to address rallies of the faithful.

And what about the merchandise? It’s possible to buy semi-official Jezuit memorabilia from his Momentum fan club, but ironically there are other outlets online who seem to recognise an opportunity for free enterprise.

My Facebook feed is full of t-shirts celebrating the Jezster by appropriating the logos and slogans of commercial brands such as Converse and Carlsberg. I can only assume that the intellectual property lawyers have bigger fish to fry, but a few ‘cease and desist’ letters probably wouldn’t go amiss.

His image hangs proudly in the streets. His words, insights and aphorisms are shared among devotees. And there are mugs everywhere. Both literally and metaphorically.

We have no reference points in British politics for the peculiar psychological baggage that now surrounds the Corbyn leadership. The only parallels can be found in religion, celebrity culture or the stifling sentimentality that surrounds members of the Royal family.

The weird, slightly feverish atmosphere this summer at times reminded me of the madness which descended in the wake of Princess Diana’s death 20 years ago. A bizarre association, it’s true, but the one which honestly comes to mind.

Jeremy Corbyn is obviously no Princess Diana. And he’s no Joseph Stalin either. But no decent, trustworthy and reputable politician would tolerate a personality cult developing around them. They would understand the dangers and would make sure their supporters knew that the memes, merch and murals had to stop. Corbyn doesn’t only tacitly accept it, but he turns up to unveil his own picture.

Soviet leader Nikita Krushchev issued a warning to the left over 60 years ago. In February 1956, he said: ‘The cult of the individual brought about rude violation of party democracy, sterile administration, deviations of all sorts, cover-ups of shortcomings, and varnishings of reality. Our nation bore forth many flatterers and specialists in false optimism and deceit.’

Now, at least in that brief moment, he was someone on the right side of history.

After more than 30 years, I leave Labour at 11.46am tomorrow.

Barring some kind of minor miracle - on a par perhaps with CETI announcing first contact with the Vulcans or the Great British Bake Off returning to the BBC – Jeremy Corbyn will be re-elected on Saturday as Leader of the Labour Party. The announcement is due at around 11.45 am. So after three decades or so of membership, my association with the party will end at 11.46. Yes, that’s all folks. I’m afraid I really do mean it this time. Party card in the shredder. Standing order cancelled. It’s goodnight from me. And it’s goodnight Vienna from Labour. I threatened to quit when the Jezster was first elected, but people persuaded me to stay on in the hope that the situation could be rescued. I wanted to go when Angela Eagle was unceremoniously dumped in favour of Owen Smith, but was told I couldn’t desert at such a critical moment and should rally behind the PLP’s chosen challenger. Stay and fight, my friends say. But over what? The burnt-out shell o

The friends, the facilitators and the failures. They now owe us all an apology.

I keep hearing Corbyn’s tenure referred to as an experiment. But how many experiments continue for four years, despite a toxic chemical haze billowing out of the mad inventor’s lab? The hard-left project should have been stopped in its tracks countless times. As far back as 2015, Joe Haines – Harold Wilson’s Press Secretary – suggested that the Parliamentary Labour Party should make a unilateral declaration of independence. They could have appointed their own leader in Parliament and bypassed the socialist relic the members had chosen to elect. Instead, they prevaricated. They agonised. They muttered to each other in corridor recesses at Westminster. The frightened bunnies were at first bemused and disoriented, allowing Corbyn and his cabal to consolidate their position. And subsequently, they were frightened. Mainly frightened of the swollen membership of three-quid flotsam and jetsam who had invaded their constituencies pledging allegiance to the sage of the allotments

Time for Red Ken to head into the sunset

Voice for 2012: Oona best represents modern Londoners Pin there, done that: Livingstone's campaign is a throwback to the 1980s Ken Livingstone may have lost his grip on power, but he hasn’t lost his chutzpah. The former London mayor was full of chirpy bluster a week ago in Southall, west London, when I popped over to listen to him debate with his rival for the current Labour nomination, Oona King. The contrast between two candidates couldn’t be more striking. Oona is chic, whereas Ken is pure cheek. She talks passionately about the threat posed by gang warfare which currently divides kids in her East London neighbourhood, while he waxes nostalgically about his working-class childhood in post-war council housing. It’s clear that Livingstone has been cryogenically preserved and then defrosted. The only question is when exactly the wily old geezer was put in the freezer. The mid-1980s would be a fair bet, which is when I remember him on a stage in Jubilee Gardens on the south bank

Anonymous31 July 2017 at 08:51
Well duh, yet again another attack on Corbyn which is bizarre becasue I know NOBODY who slavishly worships him as a cult EXCEPT those that write this kind of crap. it behooves me to point this out to everybody who is busy nodding sagely about how misled everyone who voted Labour was and is. Change yer fecking tune woncha?
Anonymous31 July 2017 at 08:58
O dear, what a naughty boy you are. Neither Israel nor the Labour party needs friends like you.

Sea Change

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