With the news yesterday that the Guardian and Observer posted an annual loss of £44 million, (or some £76 million before tax) adding to the announced losses of the Independent, (£18 million, pre Tax) and the continued speculation about the losses at the Times and Sunday Times leading to a possible sale, there is an easy gag to be made in the fact that every leading left wing media voice is now employed by a massively loss making company in a failing and dysfunctional industry.
The easy shots just rush to the tongue and the keyboard addicted fingers, don't they? Polly Toynbee? George Monbiot? Seumas Milne? Your boys took one hell of beating.
I mean, sustained losses are OK for the Independent, whose sugar daddy billionaire stands ready to provide succour to radical voices and alternative views. A loss is survivable at the Times, which as a premium brand will surely prove attractive to some other member of the Forbes Rich List when Mr Murdoch finally decides he's had enough of simultaenously being despised and throwing millions of pounds away. They'll survive, but how long can the Guardian finance itself by selling off Scott trust silver?
For those commentators who enjoy savaging the various delusions of failing corporations, replete with tedious management speak about transformation plans, the use of jargon to cover up cuts to key departments and blindness to historical levels of incompetence, mismanagement from corporate leaders who are remarkably well rewarded considering their track record of failure, it must be a comfort to know that they have such easy targets so close to home.
See, I like the Guardian, and I can hardly stop myself. It's the self righteous smugness. It drips away at your sympathy until all that is left is schadenfreude.
But then I stopped. After all, I'm in politics, and if there is one group of people who have absolutely no right to chide others for their failures and vanities without then pausing to consider how they themselves are seen it is political advisers.
Because frankly, right now, politics is in a much worse state than Broadsheet newspapers.
Let me put it this way. In January 2008, after the Northern rock crash, the election that never was and so on, the Government had a satisfaction rating of minus 33, the Prime Minister had a satisfaction rating of minus sixteen, and the leader of the Opposition had a satisfaction rating of minus seven.
Four and a half years later, the Government has a satisfaction rating of minus 42, the Prime Minister has a rating of minus 27, and the leader of the opposition has a rating of minus eighteen*.
This is terrifying enough, but what really scares me is every newspaper column I read speaks only about the relative change in the terms of political trade sparked by the collapse of Cameron and the relative revival of Ed Miliband, and barely pays attention to the fact that the entire edifice of British politics is on the shakiest of grounds.
If politics was a business, it'd be regarded as being in a worse state than G4S, never mind the Guardian.
Yet what do we do, those of us in the political class? We preach, and we lecture, we take comfort in our victories, and relish the humiliation of our enemies.
Perhaps I'm being overly pessimistic, but right now, politics is a failing industry. In the select committee of the public imagination, it is politics that should be begging for humble forgiveness, paying the price for past hubris and beginning, not with assertions of our own moral superiority, but an awareness of our very real fallibility.
Of course, partisan thoughts like mine, that Ed Miliband is uniquely placed, if he chose ,to channel a new political humility and sense of limitation, through a focus on select, small, practical steps of useful rehabilitation and renewal, in the place of bombast, grand missions and vainglorious ambitions, should be firmly resisted. It's that sort of thinking that got us into this mess.
*These are the Mori ratings for July. I'd originally included the June numbers, but July is a little worse, for everyone.