Elections take on a life of their own. Incumbency settles a paperweight on the voters’ imaginations and when you take it off things fly everywhere. People are invited to speculate, to dream, to question. Don’t complain then if they do.

Less than six weeks ago the paperweight came off. Now, in a scene reminiscent of a Hieronymus Bosch painting, fantasies and nightmares are loosed, blowing in the wind. Strange possibilities invade our national debate and speculation runs free. The polls leap and dive. Sterling recoils. Theresa May’s standing inflates and punctures. A bearded post-war throwback to socialist implausibilities wafts, incredibly, upwards on the gust.

Oh, how pat those columns declaring this general election a “no-brainer” look now. In a matter of weeks a reputation for