It could have been Jeremy Corbyn’s fault for raising the spectre of the 1980’s by poking about in the miner’s strike.
Or it could have been the extra adulation from the Tory back benches at the first appearance of Theresa May as the PM in PMQs.
But from the moment she began speak, the hairs on the back of your neck said you had seen and heard her before
Then she leant forward on the Despatch box to bite on the opposition and the niggle became a nightmare – Mrs T was back.
The voice was less imperious, the accent sightly different, no handbag in view.
But the fright on the face of the leader of the Labour Party said it all – the Iron Lady had a doppelgänger.
Having survived David Cameron and nine months not in charge of the Labour Party, Jeremy had hoped his luck was about to change.
Mrs M took seven short minutes to let him know that was not the case.
Jeremy had turned up to PMQs with at least one thing in common with the new Prime Minister.
Her Cabinet reshuffle meant they now both had front benches stuffed with people nobody knew.
At her side, foremost among the unknowables, new Chancellor Philip Hammond. At Jeremy’s, a bald man in a suit.
The Labour leader had turned up to his now customary silent welcome from his MPs.
His front bench is not as packed as it once was now that the shadow cabinet has become a job creation scheme.
But those who were there hoped to see his slightly controversial leadership skills at least polished if not burnished.
As it was, they were sliced, diced and filleted, before being handed back by the new PM.
Not one sign of nerves at her first PMQs, a handful of well-crafted insults
and Tory MPs were howling for more.
Her side went berserk as old men with red faces fantasised about the return of Mrs T.
David Cameron was already beyond history and Chancellor George, who was he?
Boris Johnson, still Foreign Secretary after five days, looked ready to spring up with his pigs bladder on a stick if a party was on.
Behind Jeremy, pall bearers were being booked as Labour MPs looked to the days ahead.
Owen Smith, the-man-who-would-be-Jeremy if only he’d take the hint, was wisely hanging about near the exit.
Mrs M told Jeremy she looked forward to many years facing him over the Despatch box.
If anything is going to make him think again.
“margaret_thatcher_iron_ohp_postcard-p239145453810465432baanr_400” flickr photo by internetsense https://flickr.com/photos/internetsense/14346335805 shared under a Creative Commons (BY-ND) license
