On the day of the funeral of Margaret Thatcher
I cannot help but think of Clement Attlee.
As Prime Minister he achieved more and for more people,
in his short time in office than every other holder
of said office in the 20th century. And he achieved it
against the greatest possible odds.
Compared with the company he kept
he was the least histrionic holder of his office
anyone could imagine. When his daughter
placed his ashes next to the unknown soldier,
in Westminster Abbey in 1967
it was as if he had become the unknown prime minister.
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