What is the point of the Lib Dems?

What is the point of the Liberal Democrats? Even to ask the question feels unkind, akin to asking “What is the point of kittens?” In Knighton, a small town in mid-Wales, a crowd of Lib Dem supporters have gathered to see Sir Ed Davey, the party leader, speak. They all look exactly as you would imagine. There is a lot of sensible rainwear and a good showing of beards; most look like retired maths teachers; all look like the kind of people who worry about washing their yogurt pots before recycling them. When Sir Ed appears on a bicycle and puts his legs out like Coco the Clown, the crowd, with a rustle of raincoats, clap jollily.

The niceness is not contrived. Most of their policies (less sewage, more nurses) are hard to dislike. Their battle bus—the term feels too martial; “mild disagreement” bus would feel more fitting—is nice, too. Yellow on the outside, it smells of oranges within. Even their attention-seeking is rather sweet: as well as bicycling in Wales, Sir Ed gains it by pretending to fall off a paddleboard in the Lake District and going down a water slide in Frome.