The PM promised to unite the country. And he has. Just not in the way he hoped.
Sir Keir Starmer will not be amused by what Britons are singing about him (Image: Getty)
In his first speech after the election, Sir Keir Starmer said Labour would unite the nation around the “common good” and build a new Britain based on “dignity and respect”, where everyone feels valued. High-minded stuff. Unfortunately for him, that isn’t what the country is uniting around. Starmer has brought us together in a far earthier way.
This new unity can be found wherever Britons gather in numbers, and lift their voices in song to Sir Keir. During the world darts championships London’s Alexandra Palace, every voice rises as one. But it’s not confined to Ally Pally. The same tune can be heard at football matches, nightclubs, music festivals and concerts. It crosses the political divide.
The chant is now so stirring that even the left-wing Guardian newspaper is celebrating its power. Today, one of its writers called it “the soundtrack to our lives, perhaps even a unifying balm in troubled times”.
Beautifully put. And impossible to disagree with. So what is this rousing anthem of national unity? Is it Jerusalem? Land of Hope and Glory? Rule, Britannia? Alas, no. It’s a little more basic than that. But let’s not be precious. It still does the job.
It goes “Keir Starmer is a w****r, is a w****r”, then continues on repeat until everybody feels a little better about life.
It helps that it’s a simple, familiar tune. Football fans have been aiming it at opposition players for decades. Everyone knows how it goes. The asterisked word is rude, two syllables. Readers can work it out. Many will have said it themselves when glimpsing the PM on TV. Or at least thought it.
We should thank Sir Keir for bringing us together. At a time when politics is pulling us to the extremes, this chant glues us back together. It’s our generation’s “We’ll Meet Again”. Only ruder.
And it spells dreadful news for Labour. The party won its “loveless landslide” on a thin share of the vote, and only by pretending it wasn’t the tax-grabbing, free-spending, union baron-loving Labour Party voters learned to loathe in the 1970s.
Once the mask slipped, the mood turned in an instant. People felt cheated.
Starmer’s speech is maddening to hear, a platitudinous word soup. He’s both dull and dangerous at the same time. A freebie-grabbing lawyer who’ll tell you with a straight face that immigration is under control while Channel crossings hit record highs. He’s also enfuriatingly pleased with himself, for reasons that escape the rest of us.
Liz Truss also united the UK. When she was cruelly compared to a wet lettuce, the country laughed as one. Once a leader becomes a national joke, their shelf life is short.
Starmer now invites universal ridicule. Every pathetic new plan instantly sinks in a pool of ridicule. It was fatal for the Conservatives and it will be fatal for Labour too. Which is definitely something to sing about. Altogether now…
