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Well, they’ve put it behind them. No need to detail the “it.” But what does that actually mean, other than “it” is no longer in front of them?

Simply that it — OK, the saga of Jody Wilson-Raybould, the attempt to finesse a deferred prosecution for SNC-Lavalin, and the resignation of Jane Philpott, the near-three-month rock-and-sock-’em in the Commons and outside — has had its climax.

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Justin Trudeau, amid cheers from his sadly compliant “team,” booted Wilson-Raybould and Philpott from the privileged ranks of the Liberal caucus. They have been excised, exiled and ejected. As one always reliably tasteful observer put it — “the boil has been lanced.”

Photo by Adrian Wyld/CP / THE CANADIAN PRESS

So what does all this mean, now, for Mr. Trudeau, who under the more congenial moons of 2015 put much of the world’s press in the kind of swoon normally served up only for alumni of Survivor or Lady Gaga epiphanies? Well, it means those days are gone for good.

It’ll be a while before Vogue comes calling again. Or Vanity Fair, oracle of the yuppie woke, teases out such spellbinding headlines as “Let Justin Trudeau in His Pajamas Brighten Your Monday,” followed by the beautiful kite tail of a sub-head “Not all superheroes wear capes.” Which is shorthand for saying that the “stylishness” component of the Trudeau brand, the meretricious appeal of the politician as celebrity, is done and gone. The charisma of celebrity as opposed to the celebrity of accomplishment or real achievement, is always a thin halo, and can vanish with a tweet. Once evaporated it never returns.