I'm in Liverpool working with a group of teenagers to make a show about the week's news. The great thing about doing a project inspired by the newspapers in Liverpool is that, unlike everywhere else I've done this, we don't have to buy the Sun.
The kids we're working with are exactly the age I was when Blair was elected. We asked them what they thought about Blair. "Iraq", they said.
They were born a year or two into Blair's first term, just as I was born a year or two into Thatcher's. We asked them what they thought about Thatcher.
"I don't know, but I know I don't like her."
"She's the baddie."
In seventeen years' time, I imagine them talking to 2032's seventeen-year-olds in their turn and I wonder who they'll be talking about. Who will bestride the political world to come. To the people born this week, Thatcher will be as distant as Wilson is from me; Blair as remote as Thatcher is from today's teenagers.
We asked them what they thought about Ed Miliband. "He's really sweet", they said.
(One of them had drawn a picture, as part of the #milifandom trend, depicting Ed as Ser Loras, the knight of flowers from Game of Thrones.)
Will the seventeen-year-olds born tomorrow still think Ed Miliband is really sweet? It seems more likely that they'll have never heard of him.
Pessimism of the Intellect, Optimism of the Will