I am a right-winger. There, I’ve said it. I’m out of the closet and proud about it. And what have I communicated to you in this act of confession? Do you picture me in a wide, pin-striped suit? Do you fear that I wouldn’t stop talking about the evils of the European Union if you ever made the mistake of inviting me to dinner? Do you imagine me as someone who doesn’t much like paying taxes unless they go to the purchase of tanks, nuclear weapons and battleships? The right’s traditional way of selling themselves to doubters is to rely on the, well, rightness of their arguments and the Tory right has, to be fair, got a very good record on the big issues of the last ten years. Eurosceptics insisted that Britain shouldn’t join the euro until the new single currency had been tested in good times and bad.
