If the personality of prime ministers past define their tenure and if, perchance, Mr. Barrow wonders what his own might look like, he might gaze into a limpid mirror and find the answer steadfastly reflecting there.

In one stream surges the feminine outrage that longs to fix its Medusa’s gaze upon the all-male Cabinet responsible for the humiliation of yet another formidable woman. In the other gushes the shameless political glee at seeing the erstwhile diva of civil society, advocate of good governance, herself caught in the thorny, treacherous underbrush of transparency and accountability she once assiduously fertilized.