Joan enjoys sweet smell of success in a loved-up Labour Party
THE tension in the Mansion House was such that one could cut it with a rubber knife. This wasn't so much a cliffhanger as a dander down a gentle slope.
There was absolutely no sense of ta-dah at all when the new party leader was announced around mid-afternoon. Minutes after the handful of ballot boxes (which had arrived to the count centre by taxi, though which of the half-dozen receptacles paid the fare was unclear) containing just over 2,700 votes from party members were poured out on to the table, it was evident that one of the two contenders had scarpered over the line by a very long neck.
"Joan. Joan. Joan," intoned a relaxed tallyman as the ballots piled up.