The rise of the Lionesses shows things sometimes come right in the end. With seemingly indomitable spirit, this England women’s team has banished cruddy old prejudice.

Once the idea of women playing football at such a level would have been laughed out of court by the pot-bellied men who knew what was ‘right’.

Once the authorities, some perhaps pop-bellied men long distant from athleticism, decreed girls must be kept off the boys’ grass. Now footage of a Yorkshire girl dancing in her England strip as her England heroines beat Sweden goes viral, and the girl and her family are said to have been given tickets to the Women’s Euro 2022 final against Germany on Sunday.

Hurrah to all that. The dancing girl clip captured the general elation. And those of us who haven’t watched often were pleased to find that women’s football is more entertaining and spirited than the men’s game, and just more fun to watch.

Perhaps that happy virus could reach other aspects of life. We need some indomitable spirit to overcome the scabbed populism that infects politics.

Boris Johnson came draped in the ratty coat of populism, and now the gruesome contest to grab that garment from him has been reduced to a vicious yet dull squabble between two poor candidates who are each, in their way, to blame for the mess we are in.

Each outdoes the other in trying to win the approval of Margaret Thatcher’s ghost in a weird nodding-to-Miss Havisham routine. Each tries to wear her rotting old policies; each tries to prove to the Tory faithful that they are true to a Havisham no-one sensible should miss.

And that leaves us all trapped in Satis House, where the clocks were stopped by Thatcherism before being sold to the highest bidder.

The Tories rid themselves of Margaret Thatcher more than 30 years ago, and yet still they venerate the woman they defenestrated; still, they stand before her vengeful ghost.

The candidates call for tax cuts and a smaller state. And when right-wing people mention a smaller state, what they mean but don’t say is: you’re on your own, pal.

The size of state we have now can’t fund the NHS properly, or give schools the money they need, or run a transport system that isn’t in hock to shareholders or arrange for energy anyone can afford.

What’s going to be cut to pay for lower taxes? Rishi Sunak says he will cut taxes when the economy recovers; Liz Truss says she will borrow big and cut taxes now.

I don’t care who wins. Both are rotten choices and soon we will be governed by the fourth Conservative prime minister in 12 years, and the winner will have been chosen without troubling democracy by asking the rest of us.

Of course, Brexit was the ultimate act of scabby populism, sold to us on a raft of lies, and now revealed as a monumental act of self-harm. Yet none of the Brexit faithful will admit any failings, as Brexit has become a sort of religion, an evangelical sect that turns away all dissenters.

If scabbed populism needs removing, so too does the timidity of Sir Keir Starmer and the Labour Party. Sir Keir won’t discuss Brexit either, other than by saying he would do it better, whatever that means. He seems mesmerised by the Brexit lies, too timid to point out the obvious truth that it’s been a disaster.

And whenever you think Sir Keir might be getting somewhere, he indulges in avoidable acts of self-sabotage. Sacking a Labour frontbencher no-one had heard of for appearing on an RMT picket line and speaking out of turn diverted attention away from the government, and made Labour look chaotic and hopeless.

While Liz Truss indulges in 1970s cosplay, blaming the ‘union barons’, Sir Keir seems too embarrassed to admit his party has anything to do with unions.

All very disappointing as what matters is having a party, or a coalition of parties, or God just about anyone, who can prize off that crusted scab.

Populism can never deliver in the end, as it’s all about culture wars and exaggeration; about stirring up hostility and antipathy, about division and derision.

At least we can look forward to the football. Good luck to the Lionesses. And, more generally, good luck to us all. Looks like we’re going to need it.