Jeremy Corbyn's supporters are as fervent as his critics are vehement. The two sides regularly clash over his politics and his perceived ability to lead the Labour Party in neverending Twitter exchanges and newspaper op-eds - but Corbyn's Q and A with Mumsnet earlier today has provided both camps with some common ground at last.
After discussing immigration, Brexit and Labour infighting, the Islington MP turned his attention to this particularly pressing question on his favourite biscuit:
Jeremy Corbyn's favourite biscuit is the shortbread, an undeniably shit biscuit.
Note that Jeremy Corbyn also acknowledges that his anti-sugar stance means he rarely eats biscuits, which means that Jeremy Corbyn eats shortbread biscuits as a treat. Think about that.
Jeremy Corbyn swears off sugar, he's 'totally' against it, he lives his life according to strict anti-sugar principles.
Jeremy Corbyn's lips and cake inhabit mutually exclusive worlds. The two might be equally enjoyed and eaten by others, but never the twain shall meet.
And yet. When Jeremy Corbyn goes on his weekly shop and walks past a biscuit that's basically being kept alive as an anesthesia for fusty town hall meetings nobody wants to attend and the Scottish tourist board, his heart beats a little faster, his eye twitches, a fire stirs in his loins and he starts instinctively masticating.
Jeremy Corbyn is being tempted by the shortbread, a biscuit famous for sustaining weevils during naval war, a biscuit so tasteless it somehow erases the memory of anything you'd eaten beforehand, a biscuit that's stale even when it's just been freshly baked, a biscuit enough like sawdust in texture that you could clean all the vomit from the nation's school playgrounds with a single tin.
Jeremy Corbyn is frantic now. His eyes are bulging out of his skull. He stands frozen in front of the biscuit aisle, arm outstretched, shaking. He can't move, he can't breath, he can't think. He knows only shortbread and that he must have them. "No Jeremy!" says John McDonnell, trying in vain to restrain Jeremy Corbyn as he wildly flails his limbs about himself like he's receiving a sustain electric shock. "Remember the sugar! Remember the lifestyle! Remember the pledge!..."
"Faahkthurrsugurr," screams Jeremy Corbyn, frothing at the mouth. "Shaargghtbraahd! Gimmeshaargghtbraaahd!"
Jeremy Corbyn can bear it no more. He tears at the shortbreads, devouring a whole pack in one go, wrapper and all, and then throws his head back and howls. He howls at the digestives and the jaffa cakes, he howls at the fellow shoppers, he howls at the security guard escorting him from the premises.
Jeremy Corbyn regularly debases himself for a shortbread biscuit. And Jeremy Corbyn will happily admit to the users of a popular mothering forum this fact. Can we trust this man?