It's a curious feature of political life that there is often an almost comical mismatch between a political leader’s public image and the private reality.
I am too young to recall why Labour Premier Jim Callaghan was always referred to as ‘Sunny’ Jim when he was anything but.
I do remember John Major though and his veneer of public charm which often contrasted sharply with a thin-skinned brittleness.
So, of course, we come to Tony Benn who died recently aged 88. Again, for many people he had a somewhat cuddly image, especially as he got older and become the nation’s favourite grandpa with his chipped mug of tea and reassuring swirl of pipe smoke. That was wide of the mark.
But reading his diaries in The Sunday Times I was struck mostly by the gloriously Pooterish tone of many of the entries. A wasp stings his private parts after he swats it and he almost sets his home alight trying to cook a pizza.
