It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of the red flag, it was the age of the red wall, it was the epoch of cloth caps, it was the epoch of sharp suits, it was the season of hope for the working man, it was the season of despair for the working man, it was the spring of socialism, it was the winter of centrism, we had everything before us in 1893, we had nothing before us in 2024, we were all going direct to the promised land, we were all going direct the other way — in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities in Islington and in the old mining towns insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
There were two Keirs, the one the alpha and the other the omega of the Labour Party; the one who lit the fire, and the one who built its funeral pyre.
