LAST week Michael Bloomberg stepped into his second debate of the democratic primaries. Since officially announcing his campaign for president last November the ex-New York mayor and 9th richest person in the world has spent delirious sums of money on, among other things: 2.4 billion Facebook campaign ads, an onslaught of TV commercials, a 60-second slot at the super bowl, pay-per-click Google ads, “self-aware ironic memes” from Instagram influencers, five hundred “digital organisers,” billboards and the conscription of his own television network to produce investigations into the rival Sanders and Warren campaigns’ apparent overspending on Amazon office supplies.

The injection of this “arrogant billionaire” (as fellow potential nominees have dubbed him) into the 2020 Democratic primary not only underlines an immense and uncanny hypocrisy on the part of any proposed Democratic Bloomberg supporters, but also a sinister watershed moment in the relationship between Western democracies and the billionaire class — the closing of the pod-bay doors of capital, the mask finally slipping, once and for all.

Now let’s not kid ourselves — the super rich have been pulling the strings in politics forever. They have their own interests — almost exclusively concerning taxes — and any political movement willing to shoulder those interests can consider themselves the lucky beneficiary of unswerving financial support. Here in Britain, perhaps with exception of Tony Blair, the billionaire class have typically favoured the Tory Party — after all, if there’s one thing you can count on a Tory for, it’s an inheritance-retaining, trust-fund cementing, estate-ensuring tax policy.