Today I’m heading up north to meet what remains of the Labour party in Scotland. Kezia Dugdale, who is in charge up there, meets me at the station and says they’re in the car.
“Who is?” I say.
“The remains of the Labour party in Scotland,” she says.
I tell Kezia I thought our membership up here had doubled since I took over, and she says it has, and that’s why they’re not on the moped.
“I’m here to listen,” I tell her.
Kezia says that’s great, because normally Westminster politicians who come up on flying visits never really get beyond the crass Scottish stereotypes.
“Although not to bagpipes,” I add.