Jeremy Corbyn Just Proved He Is an Actual Human Capable of Having Fun

Listen, I'm just like you: I have blood in my veins and hope in my heart and the profound suspicion that Jeremy Corbyn is less a man capable of emotion and more a sort of long-ignored stray dog, a Borzoi looked over by so many people at the rehoming kennels that it learned to stand on two legs and sometimes wear a waistcoat and care about workers' rights.

That Jeremy Corbyn – a candidate able to offer only very earnest statements devoid of any kind of humour – has been discussed by columnists and parodied on Twitter by a couple of guys who got a chuckle out of his constant sincerity. In the eyes of these people, Jeremy Corbyn is a bore. The kind of man who'd go to a comedy show and loudly fact check an opening monologue.

But turns out that yeah, Jeremy Corbyn is a human being, and a human being who likes fun. He likes fun, guys! He likes fun. And here he is, having some bloody fun, at a Latinos for Corbyn fundraising event on Saturday, at the El Vergel South American restaurant in south London.

Look at the fucking state of this:

In case you cannot bear to watch this video unless your body cringes inside-out – your spine cracking through your skin, your ribs tearing outwards through your flesh, your genitals being sucked up through your naval, your belly button pinging out like a cork but also in like a sudden yawn – then I will describe it to you.

It is about 200 people looking at Jeremy Corbyn while he stands and claps for one minute. It is Jeremy Corbyn, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, being walked in front of a man who just sang "VAMOS CORBYN!" to acknowledge him with a thankful look. Imagine spending your Saturday night among this crowd. Imagine wasting one of the few Saturday nights you have on this earth before the warm, sweet embrace of death, shouting in that kind of raucous-after-two-glasses-of-wine-but-we-do-have-to-be-home-by-ten-for-the-kids-little-Lewis-will-barely-be-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open way that people in their forties do, urging Jeremy Corbyn to clap. Clap, you little fucking dancing bear. The man with the guitar is playing a song for you. "Vamos" here being a threat, not an encouragement. Vamos, Corbyn. Vamos.

I cannot imagine a more desolate depiction of fun than this. This moment is so devoid of fun it becomes magnetic and sucks in all other fun. This is so anti-fun the earth should start spinning the other way. Jeremy Corbyn, clapping in a room of safely enthusiastic supporters, about to take a ride on the congas.

But at least it proves the Labour leadership frontrunner is human, doesn't it? At least it proves he is real. Cut Corbyn open, and the @corbynjokes Twitter feed bleeds out of him. Slice him down the middle and the words "begrudgingly playing the bongos to a crowd of people who can't quite clap in time" runs through him like a stick of Blackpool rock. Corbyn is banter. Corbyn is fun. Corbyn is alive. Vamos, Corbyn. Vamos.

@joelgolby

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