There is something strange going on in British politics. Theresa May, Britain’s unelected Brexit queen, can’t stop collecting voters. She says she wants to leave the single market and the customs union. More voters! Her MPs become embroiled in accusations of electoral fraud. More voters! She says she won’t call a general election and then executes a swiveling U-turn. More voters! If the sight of Boris Johnson and Michael Gove sweatily jostling it out to be the post-Brexit prime minister didn't render the majority of the U.K.’s electorate permanently queasy, the sight of May holding hands with Donald Trump should have immutably offended the sensibilities of traditional Tories. Not so. Just two weeks into her election campaign and a clutch of polls have suggested Conservative support hovers at around 50%, and has doubled its lead over Labour. If the predictions are even faintly replicated, May is set for a landslide victory on June 8.

The options facing Remainers—the so-called 48%—are limited. The prime minister’s offer of strong and stable leadership is alluring. May will get her mandate. But beyond this overarching certainty, there is a looming uncertainty set to shape the future of British politics: what form the opposition will take. Here, the Lib Dems, obliterated in the last general election, are well-positioned, positing themselves as the only liberal, anti-Brexit force capable of keeping May’s party in check. “What Britain needs in this election is clarity and a contest,” said their leader Tim Farron. “Theresa May has called this election because she believes it’ll be a coronation.” In a savvy move, he has distinguished his party from both Labour and the Conservatives by ruling out the possibility of a coalition with either. From May’s perspective, this could prevent her from retaining liberal-leaning voters via the threat of a Corbyn coalition.

The prospect of Corbyn winning is less of a threat, more a barely-debated concept. The parties are yet to publish their manifestos but Damien Green, Work and Pensions Secretary, said the Tory manifesto will include a cap on household energy bills. Clearly, May is busy cheerfully invading Labour territory. “Where were these people for last four years since I proposed cap?” asked former Labour leader Ed Milliband on Twitter, previously lambasted by the right-leaning press for a similar proposal. Meanwhile, the latest manifestation of Corbyn's whatever-you-do-don’t-talk-about-Brexit tactic saw him arguing for four more bank holidays on live television, and floundering on the subject of renewing the U.K.'s Trident nuclear deterrent. For Labour, the question is not whether they will lose, but how they will lose. MPs are facing an uncertain toss-up that could land either side of a very fine thread. Too much of a loss could trigger a party split, and end Labour as we know it. The formation of another, cohesive opposition could take years. For some, desperate to get rid of Corbyn, a loss might give them their long-awaited opportunity. Corbyn is not one to lead by convention but, conventionally, he would step-down, or be pushed down. Alternatively, expectation for Corbyn's performance is dismally low. If he exceeds assumption, his supporters—who have proved loyal—could well vote him back in; thus again locking the party into its steady, introverted state of decline.

Britain's general election is less about its winner than its losers. As May enters the unknown territory of Brexit negotiations, sets out the U.K.'s forthcoming domestic agenda, and carves its role in the increasingly febrile international landscape, the role of a strident, experienced, functioning opposition is increasingly important, and increasingly unlikely.