The vital signs of our Prime Minister need urgent medical attention. Horrors abound around him and he is exultant. Adversity feeds him, it stimulates him. It has an amphetamine effect. He is a disaster junkie. When World War III starts in earnest (those dratted Tories “breaking everything they touch again!”) – we will be radioactive and he will be radiant.
He began his appearance today with an excited seriousness saying that Tory ministers had “serious questions to answer” about the Afghan super injunction. It is a year ago, that Labour ministers were applying to extend the injunction for a further five years.
People say he lacks courage, but it is a very daring approach.
Seen in that light, his whole record in government is one of daredevilry. He accuses the Tories of creating chaos; he creates chaos. He stands for “not words but action” and says he has ”delivered 2.5% defence spending”. He says Liz Truss crashed the economy; he and his Chancellor have actually crashed the economy. He says he has “stabilised” it and that he has “fixed the foundations” while the wealthy, the ambitious, the young run – even the old are shuffling away as fast as their walking frames allow. He is still saying the last Government left a £22bn black hole while creating multi-billion black holes in every part of the economy. He vows to “smash the criminal gangs” engaged in the vile trade of people trafficking – and he turns out to be leading the biggest one himself.
It needs dash, it needs audacity to say, as he said this morning that Britain has the fastest growth in the G7, employment is continuously improving, breakfast clubs are feeding the country’s children, there is record access to the NHS.
Nobody believes him. No one in the House, no one in the country. His own MPs dislike or despise him, business abhors him, the army loathes him, employers fear him, pensioners, Palestinians, fishermen, his cabinet are united in the extraordinary coalition he’s put together. The Indians laugh at him. The EU Commission toy with him. After his abbreviated state visit, Trump will join the coalition. Only Macron loves him, as that as his favourite fool.
But how he rides the wave of ill-feeling not drowning but waving. “We’re only just getting started!” he signed off against the leader of the Opposition, just now.
She, by the way, is back to gabbling attack lines on inflation, employment, tax. All worthy subjects, but in her phrasing, they fail to penetrate the PM’s defences. She really hasn’t got the hang of him at all. He is the most vulnerable, delusional, incompetent, the most amateur prime minister we’ve ever had and she has failed either to wound him or to position herself as a prime minister-in-waiting.
She is not without achievement. After a year of being told she is “talking the country down”, she has worked up a riposte. She said, “I’m not talking the country down, I’m talking him down!” Ragged cheers from behind her.
Economists don’t help us know what’s going on. Physiognomists though – their time has come.
On the front bench today, Rayner’s face was an image of impenetrable disgust. She is surrounded by fools. Her life is worth more than this, sitting beside her lost leader. She doesn’t even try to smile when he makes a joke. At the start of play, the supportive smile she gave Our Lady of Sorrow was weary with contempt. As for the Lady herself, her symptoms of professional dementia are still visible and, if beside her, probably audible. Liz Kendall still broken from the welfare betrayal by No 10 sat slumped by the Home Secretary who aimed a mask of concentrated loathing at the PM.
Does he have a problem with women? How many useless tears have been shed at him? The man is waterproof.
Both back and frontbenches were mortified at Graham Stuart’s shaft, likening their manifesto as a “beautifully written, deeply moving blockbuster of hope and redemption” to the Salt Path as “a total pack of lies”. The heads of the front bench went down. The backbenches stilled.
Keir rose in the knowledge that no one can actually get rid of him, and defied his critics with “I am the Duchess of Malfi still!” Or words to that effect.
