QUENTIN LETTS: Starmer did well not to break down into bawling sobs as he left office looking older, more shrivelled, beaten
What a cruel business policy this is. Sir Keir accepted his fate with reluctant grace, but towards the end the understated, resentful Britishness of it all became a bit too much and his voice began to crack. Damn emotion.
He swallowed and blinked behind glasses that suddenly looked vulnerable. When he went to his wife, he hugged her. Supporters applauded but I’d bet all Sir Keir could hear was the pounding pulse in his ears and Lady Starmer’s soft cooing.
The waterworks began, as is often the case, when the outgoing prime minister completed the political requirements (an appeal to the King, a request that Labour’s Soviet-like National Executive Committee be instructed to begin a leadership process) and reached out to his family.
He was giving up the biggest job in the country and would now ‘spend more time on the job that matters most: being the best husband I can to my wonderful wife, Victoria, who has been there for me through good times and bad, and being the best father I can to my beautiful children, who are my pride and joy.’
What 63-year-old wouldn’t feel overwhelmed saying things like that, especially after weeks of hellish stress?
It was only 9.34am when the front door of 10 Downing Street opened, a whale’s jaw about to vomit up its last unfortunate sailor. Ser Keir was with his wife. Some resigned prime ministers (whose numbers have not diminished in recent years) manage to produce a semi-convincing smile when they ascend to the gallows. Sir Keir did not do this. He and Victoria looked pretty miserable.
Sir Keir accepted his fate with reluctant grace, but towards the end the understated, stern Britishness of it all became a bit too much and his voice began to grow high-pitched. damn feeling
He devoted much of his speech to claims that his premiership had been a wonderful success and that he had left Britain in a better situation than he found it. One might hesitate to act beastly towards a man at such an hour, but this was certainly debatable.
He said the economy was stronger than when Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Hunt were in office. Debt and borrowing costs suggest otherwise. He claimed that antisemitism had been eliminated and the kingdom was more just, whatever that means. Let’s say these are open to debate.
That idiotic anti-Brexit campaigner wandering around Whitehall with a massive sound system didn’t help his mission. The first half of Sir Keir’s speech was tainted by a taped rendition of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, which serves as the European Union anthem.
You could feel Sir Keir’s anger, even his desperation. Would this noise continue while ruining a moment for the whole world to watch? What will foreign countries make of our failure to stop an Oik with a ghetto blaster who ruins such a moment?
Eventually the noise died down and Sir Keir spent this June Monday morning alone, dressed in a purple tie, white shirt and button-down suit. The sun was shining on the flower boxes. Sparrows and blackbirds were chirping.
However, there was ash and hatred in his mouth when he said that he listened to the request of his parliamentary party to leave. ‘I accept this answer with great kindness,’ he said. He put ‘the country I love’ first and hence ‘I will resign as leader of the Labor Party’.
Standing outside No. 11 was a small crowd of staff and friends, including David Lammy, Lord Hermer, Darren Jones, Chris Ward and Lady Chapman. They applauded. They cheered
It was only 9.34am and early when the front door of 10 Downing Street opened, a whale’s jaw about to vomit up its last unfortunate sailor.
Standing outside No. 11 was a small crowd of staff and friends, including David Lammy, Lord Hermer, Darren Jones, Chris Ward and Lady Chapman. They applauded. They cheered. Maybe we objected too late, but at least it showed that there were some people who loved him.
He and Victoria shared a long embrace and then walked slowly towards the front door of No. 10. He was doing well not to burst into screaming sobs. He placed a caring arm on her slumped back as they stepped back into the house they would soon leave.
He leaves the office, as they almost always do, looking older, more wrinkled, more beaten. Bloody, bloody politics.
