Last night I dreamt of Jeremy Corbyn again
Last night I dreamt I saw Jeremy Corbyn again.
It seemed to me as he stood outside our local Morrisons, at a trestle table, with a petition about the NHS, and a Palestine flag as a tablecloth for no immediately apparent reason, that he was at peace. The familiar beige Harrington hung from his frame, atop chocolate Farah slacks. His biro tucked safely in his shirt pocket.