From London’s holly-sellers to Engels’s flaming Christmas centrepiece, the plum pudding was more than festive fare in Victorian Britain, says KEITH FLETT
THE columnist David Aaronovitch — who misses no opportunity to remind us of his apostasy — flaunts his (now rather remote) communist student past as a signifier of his authority as an anti-communist. This is a rewarding occupation in the lucrative milieu of Times journalism.
Thus we find him this week discussing the paradox that, although many of the Labour Party’s newer members don’t share Jeremy Corbyn’s long history of antipathy to the European Union, he retains their loyalty, affection and their confidence in his leadership.
Perhaps it hasn’t dawned on Aaronovitch that, although they wouldn’t habitually look for it in a Murdoch journalist, the maintenance for decades of a set of unshakeable principles is precisely what people find admirable in a politician.



