Chris Everett continues the analogy between the Hollywood blockbuster and the ongoing turmoil that has befallen the Labour Party. 

It started out bumpy – bugs in the system like Jeremy reading the teleprompter incorrectly and his Chancellor brandishing a copy of Mao’s little red book. These were overlooked by Johnson and Powell, while Umunna saw it as proof of his chaos theory – that Corbyn’s rule would be chaotic. When Powell and Johnson come across a sick part of the party – Labour’s anti-semitism problem – they are compelled to stop their impartiality and step in.

By June they reach Corbyn’s equivalent of the T-Rex paddock – the Brexit vote. Blairites trying to lure Labour out to campaign in force is ineffective, but the day after the vote sees no terrifying spectacle.

Then Watson, like his fictional counterpart Nedry, shuts off the power and begins to ride the unfurling coup.

An apoplectic Corbyn sacks Benn and the resignations begin. The Tyrannosaurus of a new Labour leadership contest has broken out, with the Labour membership being roared at one way and another. Burnham – the lawyer in this analogy – has already fled the membership, choosing instead to weather out the year by hiding away from Westminster. His chances are devoured by the leadership contest when he fails to vote against Corbyn with the majority of the party.

Far from a free and open contest, the party divides into factional infighting, with Labour members and grandees “knocked off a cliff” in terms of having a say while the PLP wrangles over the possibility of a future contest.

Meanwhile, Watson fails to steer himself through the storm without being identified as a plotter, and is brought face to face with the spitting, fuming unions.

Seeing disaster ahead and unable to gain back the support of MPs, Milne advises Corbyn to restart the system and goes off to start it up again and ensure the NEC puts him back on the ballot for a new contest. Meanwhile, Johnson begins his attempt to guide the Labour membership home, pointing out the graceful Angela Eagle and Owen Smith roaming free as “frontrunners.”

They are quickly devoured by the contest T-Rex, and the magical moment is shattered by the reality of politics.

Milne has been out of site and earshot for far too long. Frustrated, Powell and Benn invite the NEC to come to a decision, setting out to the HQ bunker to state their case. On their way, Benn is horrified to see that finally, Momentum have stirred out of their Twitter cage and have taken to the streets. As Powell goes on alone to argue the moderate case to the NEC, Benn stays to confront Momentum.

Phone at the ready, thumb over “Send Tweet”, Benn has one particularly cruel member in his sights. As he takes one last look at his tweet, a second member pops out of the hedge next to him. He is surrounded and loathed by Labour’s hard left.

“Clever girl (or boy or whatever gender you choose to identify as)”

Powell is running, going through the gauntlet of Momentum members, and makes it into the NEC bunker. After prompting a meeting (and electrifying the general membership by doing so), she is horrified to find the remains of Milne, who has conceded the leaderships power to Labour HQ by legitimising the PLP’s call for a contest. However, he has left one strong arm in play – the NEC will allow Corbyn to be on the ballot.

Momentum strikes again.

Barely escaping, she runs into an exhausted and wary Alan Johnson.

The membership, thinking they were safe from some of Momentum’s more vocal members, hide out in their exclusive £25 kitchen. It doesn’t take long for the militant activists to figure out how to get in (creating social media groups which offer to pay membership fees). After a terrifying chase, the membership, Johnson, and Powell unite. Surrounded by Momentum, all seems lost. As one goes to send a nasty tweet, the leadership contest T-Rex steps in.

Momentum scatters, realising some of their members may have gone a bit far. Outside, Johnson, Powell, and the membership hop in to Corbyn’s jeep with Umunna.

“Mr Corbyn, after much consideration I have decided not to endorse your party”

“Well that’s just because you’re a red Tory”

The Labour island is abandoned by the moderates and Blairites alike. Looking mournfully out the window, Johnson sees a flock of social democrats flying gracefully and smiles. There might still be some hope yet.

N.B. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about McDonnell. He is represented by the shady Dodgson, the man who employs Nedry to undermine Jurassic Park.

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