Safe hands at helm in uncharted waters

THERE is an old phrase that comes to us from the days of sailing; rarely used but we know what it means. I like the cut of his jib.These last griefstricken and tragic days, it seems to me, two stepped up to the plate and performed magnificently, quelling any doubts we may have had.

Obviously the first was King Charles III.Three weeks ago he was Prince of Wales. In a single afternoon he became our monarch. Without pause he set himself a gruelling schedule, enough to flatten a man much less than his 73 years. He flew the length and breadth of his new kingdom, meeting people high and low, diving into the crowds to greet and chat. Then back to Edinburgh and London for ceremony after ceremony, slow-marching miles behind the coffin of his beloved mother. How he found time to eat and sleep, let alone rest, I do not know. But what we have seen should give us all heart. Forget his whingeing detractors.We have a good ‘un there.

The second was Liz Truss. Her accession to the premiership could not have been more awful. Within 48 hours of the kissing of hands in a drawing room at Balmoral she too had lost her monarch yet had to form a Cabinet and a government and adopt policies to try to cope with all the other crises we face.

Her Chancellor of the Exchequer Kwasi Kwarteng fired the top mandarin at the treasury without a discussion. He could never have done this without her say-so. It sent a massive tremor through the ranks of the top bureaucrats who for so long have been beyond criticism, rebuke or removal no matter how many disasters of incompetence they managed to preside over.

Like the Afghan fiasco mentioned elsewhere on this page, the days of “I’m immune” seem to be over and the panjandrums clearly don’t like it. This apart she took a full part in the obsequies at Westminster Abbey.

It could be we have another Margaret Thatcher here. About time.We have had 30 years of bumble and can’t-be-done.