Keir Starmer seems to be unaware of what he’s telling us whenever he opens his mouth.
Everyone knows that as the New Year blues sink in, sometimes you feel that you need to reinvent yourself. Head to the gym, take up knitting, and finally start that project. For Keir, he has taken it to heart – New Year, New Keir. Unfortunately, his latest ‘reshuffle’ is the latest in a long line of rebrands, that mean if Sir Keir Starmer were a rocket, he would be forever stuck on the launch pad, engines roaring majestically whilst going absolutely nowhere. If he were a restaurant, Cafe Keir would spend so much time redesigning its menu that the kitchen would never actually open.
Unfortunately our Prime Minister seems to be the country’s most enthusiastic participant in Groundhog Day. Every few months, almost like clockwork, he emerges blinking into the daylight, announcing that this time – this time! – everything will be different, everything will be better
Keir Starmer has proven himself in the worst possible way (Image: Getty)
New slogans! New missions! New pledges! New advisors! Constant dizzying buzzword-heavy gloss intended to remind you just how very well things are going. It’s like watching someone repeatedly painting over a damp wall and then wondering why the mould keeps coming back.
Today, a grateful nation no doubt breathed a sigh of relief to hear that Number 10 has gifted us all another relaunch. A new and expanded team of the brightest and best shuttle into Downing Street in the form of even more tax-payer funded special advisors. Now, I speak with some experience when I can tell you, remarkably few ‘Spads’ are special, nor do they provide good advice.
This new raft of political flunkies, Bella Ford and Tom Hourigan, have been drafted in to hurl their frail bodies on the flaming wreckage of this government. Rejoice! John Stevens, the former political editor of the Daily Mirror, has even stepped up to the plate to brief the print media – which is mildly amusing given Downing Street recently announced it didn’t really want to do such briefings, and would instead be hosting press conferences attended by Tiktok influencers.
I, personally, will only tune in to watch a ‘Get Ready With Me’ video of Sir Keir packing his bags and leaving.
All of this follows the reshuffle, Sue Gray’s Resignation, the economic growth pivot, the turn-the-page speech, which itself followed the… actually, I can’t keep up anymore.
The monochrome man in Number 10 has had more relaunches than Windows Vista, and reinvented himself more times than Madonna. He makes the BBC‘s attempt to try and stay relevant look focused and consistent.
And what, exactly, has this feverish activity actually achieved? Farmers facing ruinous inheritance taxes, the highest individual tax burden since the war, and benefits flowing life wine at a Roman banquet. But at least we have 20-odd slogans to underscore this symphony of failure.
“Secure, Protect, Rebuild.” “Stronger Together.” “On Your Side.” “Build a Better Britain.” “Plan for Change.” One half expects the next one to be “Please, For the Love of God, Stop Asking Questions.”
The genius of it all is that by the time we have remembered the latest slogan, Starmer has moved onto the next one. As we press relentlessly into January, perhaps Sir Keir has taken inspiration from gym enthusiasts, who spend more time buying fancy equipment than ever actually using it (new gear far from guarantees a new Keir).
Maybe this is the grand plan, endless relaunches so we never really understand what is going on. After all, it is rather hard to hold someone accountable when their policies change before the kettle has even boiled.
Changes to the top team have now become so frequent that new ministers barely have time to find the loos in their new departments before they are moved again. Musical chairs would be more stable. The Titanic’s deck chairs, at least, stayed put whilst the ship went down.
But here is the thing about relaunches: they only work if you have actually learned something from the previous failure. Sir Keir appears to believe that the problem is not the product, but the packaging. It’s Labour’s version of rearranging the furniture in a burning house and calling it renovation.
The man who promised change has delivered nothing but a slew of logo changes. The man who vowed to fix broken Britain has broken nothing but his own promises. The man who was going to lift the weight off our shoulders has added a few tonnes more for good measure.
But by all means, Sir Keir, do carry on. Launch yourself again. Perhaps the twenty-first (or is twenty-second?) time will be the charm. Perhaps the fifteenth special adviser will crack the code. Perhaps if we just rearrange the deckchairs one more time, no one will notice the water rushing in.
Britain’s most relaunched Prime Minister. And all he has launched is misery.
