I know it’s hard to believe, but...

...once upon a time the leaders of Her Majesty’s gubmint were real people with crooked teeth, pot bellies, fallen arches, and the like. They looked like this:

and this:

and, yes, even this:

But all of them looked like actual, living, breathing members of the species homo sapiens. People like you and me. People with aches and pains. People with flaws.

Here are two more of fairly recent vintage:

Ordinary-looking blokes, both of them. People you might pass on the street or with whom you might share a pint at the local pub or beside whom you might sit at a soccer match.

But something very strange has happened. The current leaders over there across the pond in you-know-where look more like Hollywood actors. They are pretty boys, perfect specimens stamped out with a cookie cutter, almost artificial in their sameness. The effect is Stepford-wives-ish.

Here, for example, are random British leader #1:

random British leader #2:

and random British leader #3:

...all of whom just happen to have ascended to the highest, most powerful political offices in the land.

Uncanny, isn’t it?

And more than a little bit scary.

Because if the mannequins have already taken over, can the robots be far behind?

I have realized just this minute where I have seen their like before. It was the sinister children in the 1960 film, Village of the Damned.

Let me just say in closing, dear reader, that in this world of ordinary people, extraordinary people, I’m glad there is you.
Yes, in this world of overrated treasures and underrated pleasures, I’m so glad there is you.

[Editor’s note. I would like to thank, in the order of their appearance in this post, Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher, Harold Macmillan, John Major, Tony Blair, Gordon Brown, George Osborne, Nick Clegg, David Cameron, the sinister children in Village of the Damned, and the lyrics of Jimmy Dorsey and Paul Madeira. --RWP]