So Owen Jones wrote a thing - and the world went crazy. Skies fell, and the good ship Corbyn floundered. Really? Well, No. Actually - so what?
If some jumped up little hack, still wet behind the ears from his Oxbridge baptism wants to sling in his current ten-pennorth, that is of course his right - but why should we care?
Owen Jones, whatever he may think, carries no more real weight than the average social media troll. His pronouncements, whatever their platform, were not handed down graven in stone from Mount Fact. They are his opinions, and as such tainted by which of his two faces he has chosen to wear on any given day.
To me, the Judas Cherub's latest bout of backstabbing smacks more of sulkiness than coherent and reasoned political commentary. Has he perhaps not been sufficiently fawned over by Camp Corbyn in recent months? Have some decided he might be a little too untrustworthy to be welcome in their inner circles? If so, it would seem he has resoundingly proved them correct.
This is the boy who in recent weeks was seen on television, quite possibly on the hideously slanted Daily or Sunday Politics, giving a modest little smirk when told of the bookies' odds on him becoming Labour leader. Staggering hubris aside, this was an ideal point for him to reiterate his support for the party's twice-elected existing leader.
I believe young Jones may have started to fear that the ship he has stowed away on for so long - and which has afforded him so many opportunities to place himself in the spotlight - is sinking. Hence his rush to get his precious self overboard and find some piece of driftwood to cling to.
But that's where you're wrong, Owen. The ship is not sinking - you, however, are a rat.
As I said earlier, though, these are his opinions, which he is fully entitled to hold, speak, change, or sell to the highest bidder or new parliamentary sycophant.
I was told a long time ago that opinions are like assholes - everyone's got one. Some are just apparently more full of shit that others.