According to tradition, you're supposed to get more rightwing as you grow older, as wide-eyed youthful idealism is gradually replaced with growling, frightened, fat-arsed self-interest. I say "gradually", but what worries me is the thought that such a transformation could occur with terrifying speed, a real Damascene conversion. I came close once after glimpsing David Miliband on TV: I couldn't hear what he was saying, but something about his face—just his sodding face—revolted me on a deep and primal level. It was chilling, unsettling—like watching a haunted ventriloquist's dummy slowly turn its head through 360 degrees. "Who is this grinning homunculus," I thought, "and what does he want from me?"
This either means my genes are shifting, or Miliband is a rightwing imposter. Or maybe he's simply not of this world. Perhaps I merely behaved like a farm animal reacting to an extraterrestrial intruder—howling in distress without knowing why.
Ghastly and nightmarish though Miliband may be, he's got nothing on gloomy Gordon Brown, who increasingly resembles a humourless, imposing old butler slowly creaking the mansion door open in a Frankenstein movie. Prime Minister Igor, the shuffling fun-free zone.
Strangely—although it is hinted at in the article's title: "Labour leaders are starting to revolt me as much as Tories always have. Am I becoming rightwing?"—young master Brooker makes no mention of the many rumours of Miliband challenging the Gobblin' King for the leadership of the Labour Party.
But should that day come, I look forward to Charlie's fucking head exploding...