Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself.

I’m doing a can of Red Stripe and working on my election eve post, and up pops this:

Shakespeare called it ‘vaulting ambition’.  Mix it with abject ignorance, and an aptitude for the kind of slash-and-burn rehetoric that gets the farm-hands feverishly sharpening their pitchforks, and you have an insidious little cocktail.

Here’s hoping after tomorrow we don’t see this kind of political poison masquerading as competitive electioneering for many years to come.

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