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Not another one. Brenda from Bristol must be doing her nut. After sounding on Friday like the Japanese soldier who had no idea the second world war had ended decades earlier, sometime over the weekend reality had bitten for Keir Starmer. Maybe all he needed was a bit of time at Chequers to think straight. Maybe his family had also told him the game was over. But late on Saturday, reports emerged that he was planning to announce his resignation on Monday. Tellingly, there was not even one Starmer loyalist dampening down the speculation.
By the end of the summer, the UK will be on to its seventh prime minister in 10 years. There was a time when we used to make fun of the Italians for replacing their leaders every couple of years or so. Now they look like the model of stability. It is us who is the basket case. They will soon have to make more space at the Cenotaph Remembrance Sunday parade for the line of former prime ministers. Those we have loved. Those we haven’t. Those we have lost. No way of knowing if, at the going down of the sun, we will remember them. Nor is there any sign of things letting up. Who knows how many more prime ministers we will get through in the next decade.
You could tell it was all over for Keir by the expression on the face of the business secretary, Peter Kyle, on both the Trevor Phillips show on Sky and Laura Kuenssberg’s on the BBC. Kyle is usually Tigger personified. The man who can be guaranteed to be upbeat on almost any occasion. The doctor who could tell you with a smiling face you were going to die in a couple of days’ time. Think of the bright side! The weather forecast is perfect for the coming week. Try to get out while you still can. If anyone could spin for Keir, it was him.
But today was too much even for Peter. A step too far. There was no way of turning this into a good news story. There was a sadness in his face that none of us had seen before. A wistfulness. This was not a reality that could be denied. You might previously have believed there were no limits to the amount of times government ministers could humiliate themselves in front of a camera. It turns out there is quantity theory of delusion after all.
There again, this was not just Starmer’s tragedy. This one is also personal for Kyle. Because, come the Andy Burnham government, Peter may well also find himself out of a job. Being a Keir loyalist and one of Wes Streeting’s best friends may not exactly be what’s wanted in the new world order. We later learned that Peter had sent Andy a text message of congratulation. One that had not been returned. Peter tried to brush it off. As if he didn’t care. But inside he was dying.
The silence had said it all. Gone will be the excitement of being in the loop, the thrill of being part of the team shaping the direction of the country. Instead, it could be a return to the backbenches. Goodbye to free rides in the back of a ministerial limo, and hello to topping up the Oyster card to use on public transport instead. Would he take a job in a Burnham government? Of course. But his eyes told you that was a long shot.
“Have you spoken to Keir?” was the first question on the lips of both Trevor and Laura. Kyle was able to confirm that he had had a long conversation with Starmer on Friday. Whether that was before or after the prime minister had popped up in Barnet – 200 miles south of Makerfield where Burnham was celebrating his byelection win – to announce he would be fighting on and running the country for years to come, he didn’t say. They had spoken for a long time, he said, and the prime minister had been calm and thoughtful. Not once had he put his own self-interest first. Everything had been about what was best for the country.
“OK,” said Trevor and Laura. “So what advice did you give him?” Now Kyle chose to shut up shop. Their meeting had been private and confidential. It would be a betrayal to give any details. At least Peter’s contributions had been private and confidential; Starmer’s not so much, as he had already given us the gist of what Keir had said. “He’s reflecting on the realities,” Peter observed. Which is political speak for a candid admission that he was a goner.
Perhaps realising that he had said rather more than he intended, Peter started rowing back a bit. He and Keir were just working hard to deliver what was best for the country. He would say that more than a dozen times on both programmes. And even though the other leaders in the G7 had clubbed together for a leaving card – “Sorry to see you go, loser, DJT” – the prime minister would remain a global player on the world stage. He was like a clockwork Keir. Carrying on working until someone forgot to wind up the motor.
The longer the interviews went on, the harder it became to watch. It was like being granted a window into Kyle’s soul. As a bit of denial set in again, so the sadness crept up a notch. He had no idea if the rumours Keir was planning to resign were right, because “I have nothing to believe that they are true”. The words of a minister who hadn’t really even been listening to himself. Still struggling to work out where it all went wrong from the election in July 2024. Unable to grasp the betrayal of countless cabinet ministers and Labour backbenchers. He had expected some gratitude.
Come the end, Laura turned to her panel of three Labour MPs: Toby Perkins, a Keir loyalist to the last, Luke Charters, an outrider for Andy, and Jess Phillips, a Streeting supporter who may have backed the wrong horse. “I’ve no idea what will happen,” Phillips said candidly. “But the only question is how to beat Reform.” Not what’s best for the country. And that’s the heart of it. Beating Reform.
Not that Reform were anywhere near the studios. Makerfield was a disaster for them. Nigel Farage has been in hiding for weeks. Reform are doing a brilliant job of beating Reform without the help of anyone else. As one Reform MP put it: “We are too racist for some voters. And not racist enough for others.”
