At a recent funeral, a member of the Shadow Cabinet and I were musing as to what to do with Owen Smith after next month.
Angela Eagle, we agreed, could become an agony aunt and the presenter of a daytime talk show.
But Smith? Of what possible use could he ever be to anyone?
It is quite amusing that Smith bores on about rugby ("smashed back on her heels"), in an obviously affected accent considering that he comes from the academocracy.
No one has the heart to tell him that the game of working-class Wales is increasingly football.
No one in Sedgefield ever had the heart to tell Tony Blair that the area was split between Sunderland and Middlesbrough, with barely a Newcastle United supporter in sight.
This is very much like that. Very much, indeed.