It got her in the end, as she knew it would – sneaking past her defences in the third year. She wakes in the night, chilled to the bone, shivering uncontrollably no matter how deeply she burrows under the covers. For a second or two, she knows what it is to be old and permanently cold, scared witless by the winter ahead. She sees the true wickedness of ‘trickle-down economics’, the bad faith twined around its pitch-black heart.

Riddle me this: how is the bloated wealth of hedge fund manager Crispin ‘Odious’ Odey supposed to reach a pensioner subsisting on £134.25 per week? What path could it possibly take so that Elsie, 82, is able to both eat and heat this winter? When exactly would it reach her purse, given that trickle-down economics only ever trickles?