In the event of nuclear armageddon, it is said that the cockroach would rule the Earth. I have a growing suspicion that the hardy insects would find that they shared the post-apocalypse wasteland with Theresa May. She has demonstrated an ability to survive existential threats that has astonished scientific opinion.
This week, she will have endured a year in Number 10 since the general election that was conceived in hubris and ended in disaster. This is not an anniversary the prime minister will want to linger upon. She went into that campaign with a double-digit lead in the polls and Tory dreams of a landslide and came out of it without a parliamentary majority. The consensus was that her credibility had suffered a fatal dose of political irradiation. Conservative MPs counted her longevity as prime minister in days, maybe weeks, months if they were generous. The spectacle of a premiership going to pieces before the nation’s eyes was magnified by a maladroit and frightened response to the terrible Grenfell Tower inferno. In the wake of that, one senior Tory, usually an astute reader of his party’s moods, offered me the prediction: “She is one more disaster away from being ejected.”
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