I’d made a film for Newsnight about what the Labour Party needs to do to reconnect with voters, and at first I was pleasantly surprised. The producer of the film was brilliant. But then they showed it on the programme and afterwards made me debate against a semi-literate lump of cretinous rage who just jabbered meaningless idiocies that had nothing to do with anything I’d said or even the questions a bemused Kirsty Wark tried to ask her. Like a Chatty Cathy doll programmed by an educationally subnormal friend of Stalin’s: pull the cord and out it all comes, a succession of furious non-sequiturs. “Never again,” I told the idiot of a programme producer, afterwards, very solemnly.