lemon revolution

Yawn. That's all it induces, as your eyes doggedly scan the text, procuring the scarce semantics conveyed by the tiresome punchlines and lifeless descriptions. The text, exactly? Ed Miliband's latest interview in the New Statesman, of course. If, in some hypothetical, fitting theatrical realm, the Conservative Party was to secure the role of King Claudius, appointing from its considerable array of ministerial actors, the cursed Polonius would no doubt be assumed by Ed Miliband. The Labour leader as ever, offers little in the way of ingenuity, contradicts himself occasionally and intellectually, turns in speechless. Yet it seems as if Miliband cannot even summon the political fight to defend his own party. Labour's legacy in power remains under perpetual Conservative attack; verbal artillery decrying that ghastly, murderous, torturous, massacring, horrible, contemptible, foul  budget deficit remains live, the offensive driven forward by battle cries of irresponsibility and

As Howard Webb's whistle drew the show to a close, some among the Anfield faithful reached with one hand to draw for their knives, offering only a tired groan of despondence in response to a performance that deserved little more. Of course, their sheaths contained no such weaponry, for the knives were drawn long, long ago, and the worn, tattered and blunt blades had rested in the other palm for so many a decade, that they had simply forgotten. For most, the knives were already waiting. Brendan Rodgers' second defeat in three league ties has punched Liverpool into a fiery media spotlight, and the Northern Irishman was already forced to assure reporters of his own position in the post-match press conference. "I have spoken to people in America since Friday. They have my thoughts", is the snippet Rodgers threw away in response to his club's dreadful end to the transfer window. A snippet that speaks volumes. A snippet eerily similar to the public lambastes Rodgers