Train row shows Corbyn to be a total twit

I’ll keep this very short. It’s sunny outside where I am and there is a pool to go and jump into.

I promised after being too rude – unfairly – about Nick Clegg and his student fees u-turn when he was Deputy Prime Minister ‎that I would no longer resort to invective or personal insults. Sadly, Jeremy Corbyn’s recent behaviour and the manner in which he is destroying the Labour party means that I am compelled to briefly lift the moratorium.

What is so tremendous about the train row is that it reveals conclusively that Corbyn is a total twit.‎ His team had made much of his humble decision to sit on the floor of a “ram-packed” train (who says ram-packed?) when he could not get a seat on a Virgin train service. A little production full of spin and sophistry was made by the Corbyn media team to highlight the state of the railways and promoted on social media.

Alas! Following the intervention of Richard Branson, the Virgin boss who is one of Britain’s most popular businessman for reasons that are never entirely clear, we now know there were seats available. There is video to prove it.

Corbyn – lacking style or wit – then proceeded to make matters worse in a press conference today in which he was questioned about his dodgy explanation. He was dire, doing his “I’m the messiah why should I have to bother with these silly questions” routine. It is obvious what is going on here as he steers his party to disaster, leaving the Tories in heaven. Corbyn is as vain as hell. All the chanting of Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, and the worship by the hordes of politically naive supporters has swelled his head. The adulation – denied to him all his career – is now flowing from the Corbynistas, who ignore the realities of English public opinion. They are feeding his ego. He is loving it and in the process revealing his hitherto obscured character.‎

Getting caught out in the train row shows once again that very often a minor story or spat can illustrate a bigger truth related to leadership style and unsuitability for office. Corbyn can’t handle questions or think on his feet. He grows more pompous, prickly and ridiculous by the day, carried away by a fantasy and dreams of prowess. The man is a classic type. He is twit. A total twit.