I euphemistically mention ‘taxis’ here, because of course my first instinct was to call an Uber. My partner, outraged, told me to not rely on the overexploitation of workers that Uber is famous for and to take a damn taxi. And so the long argument of our day began, with me referring to the undeserved monopoly of Sydney’s taxi ranks, and her pointing to Uber’s anti-worker practices. It was a bizarre twist of events, considering this is an issue I’ve thought about a bit.

Because everyone would be assured a basic standard of living, a UBI would reduce incentives to undertake paid work. That is a feature of such a policy, not a bug. Most people would choose to allocate less time to income-producing activities (thereby reducing demand for a smaller pool of paid positions), and devote more time to other pursuits: charity and community work, leisure, caring, domestic work, education – and art.

At the start of the election campaign, the Labour Party’s position on immigration was clear. Armed with a raft of new policies and an inflammatory vow to stop ‘tens of thousands’ from coming to New Zealand, Labour signalled loudly that reducing migration was one its key electoral pledges. With the recent turnover in leadership and accompanying guarded sound bites on immigration, one could be fooled into believing that the party has softened its stance.

It was supposed to be a funeral on Thursday, but as we canvassed around Battersea, it was unclear what we were supposed to be sad about. We were five deep at every conceivable outpost and doorknocking in council estates half a dozen times during the day (after many more attempts in the weeks leading up to polling day). We were relishing the excitement of a possible end to Third Way politics. Yet the polls were convincing us of the wisdom of taking this moment to mourn the Corbyn campaign. By 10 pm that night, it was clear that the political topography of Britain had completely changed in a way very few had predicted.