A NEWS STORY FROM 7 DECEMBER, 2029

'TEN YEARS SINCE THE DAY WHEN THE TIDE TURNED'

History loves a good turning point moment, especially when the sea change comes down to one man. Or woman. Most of the time, these famed moments are probably little more than the fairytales of folklore. You know. Paul on the road to Damascus. Nero fiddling whilst Rome burned. King Alfred burning the cakes. Robert the Bruce spending quality time with a spider. All good stuff, but all a bit Walt Disney if we are honest.

Then there are other turning points which have a bit more heft about them. Most famous in the history of these islands of ours was the moment Winston Churchill took to the airwaves in a the dark days of 1940 to make his eloquent promise to fight on the beaches. In school we were taught how these epically galvanising words stiffened the spine of the nation and emboldened us to stand alone against Nazi tyranny.

There are one or two minor flaws to this narrative if we are to acknowledge a few inconvenient truths. Post war paperwork showed Hitler had no intention whatsoever of attempting a seaborne invasion of Britain. Obviously he didn't. The Royal Navy absolutely ruled the waves of the English Channel and the Royal Air Force was pretty dominant in the skies above. An attempted invasion would have led to the greatest mass drowning in history. Hitler knew it. His High Command knew it. We knew it.

But, hey. It was still a pretty good speech.

Martin Luther King on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial? Mandela's speech to the court before his sentencing? It is hard to argue about these two speeches and the monumental impact both men's perfectly chosen words eventually had on the world.

Which brings me to the tenth anniversary we have reached today. Have you forgotten? Surely not? Well. Let me remind you. Let me paint you a picture of the way the world looked on that cold December morning ten years ago. Here. In the old United Kingdom. When our islands were still more or less as one.

The weather was grey and not particularly cold. Liverpool were eleven points clear at the top of the Premier League. The true horrors of the climate emergency were slowly starting to emerge. And the old UK was a week out from its first winter election in generations.

On that long lost Saturday morning, the outcome of the coming vote seemed pretty much nailed down. The Tories were ten points clear and it seemed that enough of the electorate was ready to hold its collective nose and send a serial liar and shyster into Number 10. And then what? Then we would have been out of the EU in a matter or months and the most right wing government in a hundred years would have set out on dismantling the checks and balances the UK had put togther over a thousand years.

In hindsight, it is truly hard to understand how many of us were willing to vote for the Tory leader, Boris Johnson. In the months following the election many home truths emerged which sent him first out of office and then out of the country altogether. On that grey Saturday morning, the true extent of his venal corruption wasn't common knowledge. Millions of Brits were gearing up to give him the benefit of the doubt. We find it hard to admit it now. Of course we do.

Three years earlier, Donald Trump had managed to win the American Presidency against all expectations. In the desperate agonising which followed this earthquake, most agreed there was only one candidate he could possible have beaten – Hilary Clinton. Clinton was widely despised and vast numbers of Americans wondered how this career politician from a relatively humble background had been able to put together a net worth of $250 million. How indeed? She was sufficiently hated and distrusted for the Donald to slip in through the dack door of the Electoral College system even though he won three million less votes.

On that grey Saturday morning a decade ago, Boris Johnson was about to benefit from a similar set of circumstances. His opponent was Jeremy Corbyn, a rather grey seventy something year old who had won the leadership of his party more or less by accident. Corbyn liked cycling, working in his allotment and taking the side of what he saw to be the little guy and the tabloid press saw as terrorists.

Corbyn enjoyed a bizarre cult following among half a million mainly young, mainly well educated, mainly public sector party members. They saw his as a weird mix of a favourite grandfather and Father Christmas. The problem was that they were in a pretty small minority and the majority of the country couldn't abide the Labour leader. Oh he tried to turn it around. He really did. He smartened up is wardrobe. He promised to keep nuclear weapons. He ditched a lifelong wish to leave the EU.

But nothing washed, no matter how hard he tried. And with five days left before the polls opened, as Labour candidates knocked doors all over the country, they heard the same story over and over and over.

Old school Labour voters from Lands End to John O'Groats couldn't stand Jeremy Corbyn. Just like tens of millions of Americans had been driven by a visceral loathing of Hilary Clinton three years earlier.

Basically, Jeremy Corbyn was beyond toxic. Most Brits despised Boris Johnson. But they despised Corbyn a whole lot more.

When he called a Press Conference on that Saturday afternoon, there was neither excitement nor interest. No doubt it would be yet another promise to spend an eye watering amount of money on something new. And no doubt nobody much would have believed a word of it.

Well.

How wrong we all were.

He stepped out in front of the cameras in front of the usual backdrop and made a speech which lasted less than two minutes. He promised no new money. He made no new policy. Instead he stopped the country in its tracks and turned the course of history with a few carefully chosen words.

“Good afternoon. Over the last four years I have tried my very best to lead the party I have always loved. I don't pretend to be any kind of Messiah. I am actually a pretty ordinary sort of guy. As you all know, I like working in my allotment and watching Arsenal. To be honest, I don't really recognise the pictures most of the newspapers have painted of me over the last four years. But this doesn't matter of course. What matters is the fact that a majority of my countrymen and women clearly agree with the stories the tabloid press have told about me. And so it is time for me to look the truth in the face, no matter how hard this is to do. Next Thursday there is a strong possibility that this country will fall into the hands of the most corrupt and right wing government we have ever had, and if this happens, it will have largely been down to me. Most people say the only reason they are willing to give their vote to the appalling Boris Johnson is that they find the prospect of me even more appalling. Well, as of this afternoon I am taking this reason away. Today I will step down as Labour leader with immediate effect. I will not be your next Prime Minister. I will return to being a humble back bencher. I cannot tell you who will be the next Labour leader. All I can say is it will not be me. I make this announcement with a heavy heart. Believe it or not, I am doing this for my country. Really. I simply couldn't live which the knowledge that I had been responsible for a monster like Boris Johnson getting his hands on the levers of power. Thank you so much for all your support. A hundred and seven years ago, Captain Oates left his tent in the Antarctic with these famous words “I am just going outside. I may be some time.” Well Captain Oates stepped outside to freeze to death. I will face no such fate. I will tend my vegetables and at weekends I will take my seat at the Emirates Stadium. Thank you.”

And with that, he was gone. No questions answered. No tours of the studios. No tweets or articles in the Sunday papers. One minute he was there, the next minute he was gone.

And the rest of course became history. The Labour vote surged and they became the largest party in a hung Parliament. Two months later Boris Johnson was forced to resign as the truth of his relationship with Jennifer Acuri emerged. In September 2020, the UK voted to remain in the European Union by a majority of 57 to 43 and slowly but surely the country regained a degree of sanity. Of course we lost Scotland and Northern Ireland along the way, but at least we managed to stay pretty much the same place we were before the 2016 madness took a hold.

So where would we have been if Jeremy Corbyn hadn't decided to have his Captain Oates moment? Who knows. Nowhere good, that seems all but certain. We might well have been in a very dark place indeed. Instead were where we are. Not perfect. But not terrible either. It's a pretty ordinary sort of place. Ordinary like the man who fell on his sword for the sake of all of us.

So thank you Jeremy, wherever you might be now. You did the decent thing.