It was a day of dazzling incompetence. Stunning ineptitude. Astonishing uselessness. How do we even begin to plumb the depths of daftness of this Downing Street operation?
With Labour MPs grumpy and Cabinet ministers anxious to let people know that they are available for any vacancies that might arise, the prime minister’s team decided to launch a briefing war against enemies real and imagined. The result was the most self-sabotaging defence of a prime minister since Penny Mordaunt told the Commons that Liz Truss wasn’t hiding under a desk.
The chief target of the briefing was the Health Secretary, Wes Streeting. He was due to tour the broadcast studios on Wednesday morning talking about waiting lists. Instead, he found himself asked if he was indeed plotting to replace Keir Starmer. He was not. “Nor did I shoot JFK,” he went on. “I don’t know where Lord Lucan is, had nothing to do with Shergar, and I do think that the US did manage to do the moon landings.”
“This is a united team,” the prime minister replied, somewhat implausibly
Now, that may not be the whole story. It’s safe to say that, were a vacancy to arise at the top of the Labour Party, the Health Secretary would be available. But it was also a good answer. A better answer, frankly, than the current prime minister can generally manage in most interviews. If this manoeuvre had been planned to allow Streeting to show off his leadership chops while professing loyalty, it couldn’t have gone better.
But come on, surely the conversations with journalists had at least put an end to mutterings about the prime minister’s position? Well, let’s see how the BBC is reporting this: “Speculation over Sir Keir Starmer’s leadership”. Oh. It turns out the “I’m not on the brink of being forced out” briefing had prompted a whole load of questions that were very clearly answered in the briefing.
At least it was well-timed in terms of the prime minister’s public appearances, though? What’s that? The prime minister has to answer questions in Parliament every Wednesday? Why did no one tell us this?
Kemi Badenoch arrived in the House of Commons like a footballer who’s approaching the goal with the ball at her feet when the remaining defender turns around and punches the goalkeeper. People often talk about an open goal at prime minister’s questions, but rarely is the goal quite as open as this. Labour MPs had crowded into the chamber to watch. Some couldn’t even get in: Calvin Bailey could be seen in a doorway, peering over a colleague’s shoulder. It wasn’t entirely certain whose side they were on.
The first question went to Tory MP Lincoln Jopp, the hero of Sierra Leone, whose 1997 defence of Freetown’s Mammy Yoko Hotel earned him the Military Cross. “I somehow managed to survive a bloody and violent attempted coup,” he began. “So if the prime minister wants any advice, he has only to ask.” Even Starmer laughed at that.
It set the tone for the session. The Conservatives were in hog heaven, with the government blowing itself up in a way that, for once, was entirely self-inflicted. On the front bench, Chris Philp’s legs were further apart than ever, his testicles swollen with pride.
Badenoch lined up her shot. Streeting had described a “toxic culture” in Downing Street. “He’s right, isn’t he?”
“Let me be absolutely clear,” the prime minister replied. “Any attack on any member of my Cabinet is completely unacceptable.” A position with which more than one person in Downing Street very clearly disagrees.
Badenoch allowed herself a joke about Streeting — “we all know that there is only one waiting list he really wants to cut” — and asked if Starmer had confidence in his chief of staff, Morgan McSweeney. She taunted the Labour benches with the words that had been used about them — “feral MPs” — and the claim that the bond markets would collapse if Starmer were removed. “This is a united team,” the prime minister replied, somewhat implausibly. Remember: the briefing to the opposite effect came from his own office.
Some of Badenoch’s shots were wild, but the session had gone sufficiently well that the Conservative Party actually released a statement to this effect afterwards, a decision that, if nothing else, tells us how they think things have been going the rest of the time.
So what on earth is happening? Usually at this point someone will pop up and explain that the prime minister simply needs better advisers. It’s interesting that they haven’t. Perhaps the consensus is that the advisers need a better prime minister.
Or perhaps, just perhaps, someone in Number 10 was playing eight-dimensional chess and had decided that the most important thing was to make Badenoch look good for once. Honestly, it’s as plausible an explanation for the last 24 hours as any others that I’ve got.
