The last few years have been tough for Jeremy Corbyn. One minute you’re being heralded by the trustafarians of Glastonbury; the next you’re leading Labour to its worst result since 1935. Rejected by the electorate, suspended by his party, the world’s unluckiest anti-racist has found himself embroiled in a series of minor self-inflicted scandals, whether that be speaking next to a dubious ten foot inflatable sheikh or telling the intellectual adolescents of Cambridge that ‘Luciana Berger was not hounded out of Labour.