THE genius of Banksy’s new intervention in central London is not just the image, but the timing of it.

Just see how it subverts the generic public statue: they are static and grounded, where this one steps directly into the abyss. And why? Because the man cannot see, blinded as he is by the stuff of his own ideology, his flag.

That draped face carries the surrealistic DNA of Magritte’s iconic image, The Kiss.

The stance, marching forwards with determination, echoes the “resolved will” of many a self-centred British imperialist, except for the comedy — it is funny because it is a disaster waiting to happen, a snapshot of the microsecond before catastrophe. This is hubris, and pratfall. It mocks the besuited ideologue. It is both deeply serious, and ridiculous, the twin poles of Banky’s art.

But then consider the timing, which is even more exquisite. This figure, intoxicated by an ideology that is leading to its own downfall, appears on our streets a few days before the local and regional elections, and the first in which the far right, with their billionaire bigotry, racism and crude nationalism, threaten to blindfold the working class and walk them off the cliff.

Public art, and public statues are a tool of the ruling status quo. They are there to embody us, and to be identified with. This work is, therefore, both a warning, and a genuine mirror held up to the British people.

This is a Banksy that deserves to last, even if it belongs specifically to this weekend. It states something that we all know to be true, but which cannot be stated explicitly in public discourse. To keep it would be to preserve the Brechtian message: that thought and foresight must precede political choice. That we cannot be “blind” followers.

We are fortunate indeed to have such an enterprising and subversive artist in our midst.

The statue is situated in Waterloo Place in the St James’s area of Westminster for an undetermined period of time