I, Keir
If creating a decent Prime Minister was akin to designing flat-pack furniture, you could do a lot worse than basing it on Keir Starmer (marketed as ‘Starma’, naturally).
It’s dependable, reassuring, inclusive. In stark contrast to the political carnage of the last few years, during which we have been tormented relentlessly by a bizarre merry-go-round of quasi-PMs (not to mention Kwasi Kwarteng).
The constant jeopardy hasn’t just come from Conservatives either. In a two-party system we were often given the choice between stupidity or incompetence.
Most countries, however, do get the leaders they deserve. And we must learn from the cult of celebrity seeping toxically into Westminster. Oh, and we must also collectively agree never to mention the words ‘Liz’ and ‘Truss’ in the same sentence ever again.
And, yet, with Keir Starmer and his band of curiously scandal-less folk, the chinks of light have thus appeared. The new Secretary of State for Health and Social Care, Wes Streeting – rumoured to be the third Mitchell brother from EastEnders – is precisely what the NHS-rebuild needs.
He has already delivered a brutal reality check to the people running it and now his job will be to modernise public health, by using life sciences as a frame of reference.
Even as I write these words, I know that they will return to haunt me. Keir’s frat party or Rachel’s untreated addiction to Hula Hoops or Angela’s attempt to fix the final of Euro 2024 will inevitably surface.
But, until then, let’s arrange the new furniture,
