Forget, for a minute, that he’s the Prime Minister. Set his job aside. Let’s imagine instead that he’s G. Brown, an ordinary, partially sighted bloke a bit down on his luck who makes a mess of filling in one of his benefit forms.
Because his eyesight is so bad — left eye gone altogether, right eye compromised with a damaged retina — our Mr Brown writes with a huge fat black felt pen. It’s the only way he can see the lines. But because the pen is so thick, what he writes becomes indecipherable. He should seek help, of course he should. But he’s a proud bloke; a bit stubborn; not easy; and he wants to do the job himself.
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