On We Go...

It's hard not to feel sorry for Liz Truss - a sentence I never thought I'd write if I lived to be a thousand years old. Two days into the top job, the job that only a tiny fraction of the country actively want her to have, and she's front and centre outside Number Ten, solemnly orating about the Queen's death. My mind wandered to the scene inside. Bags still packed, the chaos of a house move all around. 'Where's my good black dress?' Was it in the blue case? For the love of God, will someone shi...