Labour's Brexit strategy? ... actually, they haven't got one.
At best, it's just a glorified vulture-tactic: circle aimlessly, high above the ground, in the hope that something keels over and dies under your nose.
Reading a range of leftist contributions aroud the www, the only sub-group with a clear slogan are the ones who want R2. But Labour commentators who see just a few tiny problems with R2 - as anything that might benefit Labour specifically, or even as just a genuinely practical proposition - see things in a much more problematic light. Try this, from Little Owen Jones, for example. OJ's pieces of late have become highly structured masterpieces of equivocation. Each time he writes, he has to go through the ritual of praising Corbyn to the skies - his punishment for having dared to doubt the master for just a very few weeks last year - and mapping out just how awkward everything is. But, whisper it softly, he is gradually becoming less sycophantic in substance, his regular and well-argued conclusion being: there might not be much here for us. It's not greatly different from a host of other writers on the left, who are all enjoying the spectacle of the Tory and DUP lions and hyenas scrapping; but are otherwise pretty much reduced to wringing their hands. Oh, it's all so difficult to know what to do.
Yes, the vulture doesn't actually have to do anything as dynamic and skilful as hunting something down and despatching it. You could see why that counsel of idleness suits a perennially work-shy git like Corbyn. Less obviously, even the hard-driving McDonnell is also given to waiting and watching - because he's a marxist, whose belief-system is that it is all going to turn out right on the night, courtesy of the Hand of History. He's sure he'll eventually find something dead on the veldt - the bloated body of capitalism, to be precise - on which the proletariat can gorge.
The lions and hyenas have to do something pretty stupid for this to be the outcome. Some of them have fairly few brain cells, it's true. But they operate in prides and packs, the collective wisdom of which is probably adequate for the task of ensuring no lunch for the vulture.