Certain men, when confronted by their own inadequacy, will resort to shouting filth. Sir Keir Starmer did it in the Commons. The Prime Minister was being teased by Kemi Badenoch about his numerous U-turns. He did not like it. And so he flipped.
Exchanges between him and Kemi Badenoch had begun with Mrs B murmuring, in that smoky voice, ‘can I welcome his latest U-turn?’ Then, in a cool aside: ‘I feel like I say that every week.’ How casually she toys with the PM these days. The House chuckled. Mrs Badenoch released a sultry smile. Sir Keir twitched.
She was soon noting that Wes Streeting thought it would be better to ‘get it right first time’. Health Secretary (and Pretender) Wes was a few places down from Sir Keir on the Government bench. He made a small profession of denial but there was little point. Plenty of us were at an event on Tuesday morning when he said exactly that. Mrs Badenoch gurgled with pleasure. She wondered if the PM agreed with his minister.
Sir Keir’s response was pre-cooked and slightly seamy. After listing some of his magnificent achievements he accused the Conservatives of numerous U-turns when they were in office. ‘They had more positions in 14 years than,’ he said, ‘the Kama Sutra.’ For those of innocent disposition, the Kama Sutra is a sex manual and this analogy was the stalest in the Westminster lexicon.
Certain men, when confronted by their own inadequacy, will resort to shouting filth, writes Quentin Letts. The Prime Minister was being teased by Kemi Badenoch about his numerous U-turns. He did not like it. And so he flipped
Sir Keir crowned his dubious reference by adding, about youthful Mrs Badenoch and Co: ‘No wonder they’re knackered and they left the country screwed!’
It may have sounded funny late on Tuesday night when the No 10 team was wargaming rebuttals but in the glare of noonday PMQs it felt desperate. Studenty. Prattish. Worst of all, it was mouldy. Is there no ounce of originality in the Starmer operation?
On we rattled. Mrs Badenoch, ignoring Sir Keir’s vulgarity, accused him of ‘waffle’ and explained that the Government’s many policy changes were making life tricky not only for farmers, publicans, small businesses and others, but also for Labour MPs. Sir Keir was ‘blowing around like a plastic bag in the wind’. All this was heard glumly by the backbenchers arrayed behind the PM. They sit there these days like the hired grief at a country funeral, hands crossed, faces rigid.
Sir Keir read some barbs about Nadhim Zahawi’s defection to Reform. Mrs Badenoch, beaming: ‘I’m okay.’ Sir Keir, irked by her insouciance, laboriously assembled a joke about the shadow Cabinet having been made by Ikea – ‘nobody wants to buy it, it’s mainly constructed of old, dead wood and every time you lose a nut it defects to Reform’. Ikea’s legal department will love that.
The more Mrs Badenoch quizzed him, the more frazzled he became. Soon she had the Opposition benches shouting a chorus of ‘U-turn! U-turn!’
The ‘nut’ line wasn’t bad but Sir Keir told it so badly that few even had the energy to groan. He really would make a dreadful best man.
The more Mrs Badenoch quizzed him, the more frazzled he became. Soon she had the Opposition benches shouting a chorus of ‘U-turn! U-turn!’ Normally that sort of thing is toe-curling but it worked this time. Each shout of ‘U-turn!’ seemed to drill into the poor old booby’s oblong skull. He was sitting on the rim of his seat, biting his lip, blinking furiously behind his smudged spectacles. Now he pushed his mouth into a moue. He was picante-hot cross, dagnabbit. His Government was proving to be a farcical mess and most of it was down to his own dull, indecisive, constipated self. Heck, he was boilin’ like a cazuela of gambas pil pil.
And so, with pixies dancing round his temples, with his mind a blizzard of panic, he resorted to raging. ‘They should be ashamed of themselves!’ he yelled at his opponents. Excess flew from his lashing tongue. Everything was suddenly ‘disgusting!’ and ‘appalling!’ Someone mentioned Elon Musk. Sir Keir: ‘Disgusting! Shameful! Horrific! Disgusting! Weaponising! Absolute disgrace!’
Nurse, we need a hypodermic syringe to No 10, quick as you can.
