Sir Keir Starmer‘s people have hit on a brilliant way of not losing elections: keep postponing them. This, admittedly, means a junior minister must face tricky questioning in the Commons. But junior ministers, like wooden legs, are replaceable.
The poor thing delegated to face the House yesterday was Miatta Fahnbulleh, parliamentary under-strapper for local government. Became an MP only last year. Expendable.
News had broken overnight that four much-vaunted mayoral elections were to be delayed by two years. This followed the cancellation, earlier this year, of local elections in nine areas of England. The reason? ‘Are you mad? Look at our opinion poll ratings! We might lose to Reform.’
Ministers did not quite put it like that. Instead there was stuff about ‘needing more time to organise local devolution’.
Ms Fahnbulleh burbled. Waved her hands. Spoke of ‘our commitment to the creation of strategic authorities and mayors who can unlock economic potential and deliver for communities’. She looked up and went misty-eyed as the following line dropped huskily from her lips: ‘That will always be our guiding star, our lodestar.’ Pure Keats.
As an opponent of cynicism, I take no pleasure in reporting that this poetic, nay, astrological claim was greeted by burpy laughter from Tories.
Ms Fahnbulleh was deputising for her secretary of state, Steve Reed, who had tried to get away with a written ministerial statement.
Sir Keir Starmer and Prime Minister of Norway Jonas Gahr Store during a visit to RAF Lossiemouth in Scotland yesterday
The poor thing delegated to face the House yesterday was Miatta Fahnbulleh, parliamentary under-strapper for local government
The furtive Reed, like David Lammy, does not enjoy answering urgent questions. He considers them below his own magnificence. Same with Rachel Reeves, who on Wednesday was asked an urgent question about the resignation of the Office for Budgetary Responsibility’s boss. The speed at which Ms Reeves dashed from the chamber immediately after PMQs, when that matter was about to be raised, was remarkable.
She’d be mustard in a regional athletics relay team. At last. Something she might actually be able to do.
With her swift exit she ensured that urgent question was answered instead by James Murray. The mortuary attendant. One moment you are enjoying life, the next you feel a whiff of formaldehyde at your neck and there’s Murray the Morgue, lisping his sympathies on your loss and asking if you’d like Grandpa shaved and dressed in his novelty waistcoat for the wake.
Back to poor Ms Fahnbulleh. Try as she might to waffle about ‘strong strategic authorities’, ‘time frames’, ‘investment pipelines’ and ‘our partners on the ground’ (Mr Murray prefers them ‘in’ the ground), she was accused of running from the electorate.
Even her predecessor, Jim McMahon (Lab, Oldham W), had a go.
‘We need to be better than this,’ intoned gloomy Jim. ‘The Government is worried about being trounced in elections,’ roared Sir Edward Leigh (Con, Gainsborough). Nigel Farage (Ref, Clacton) managed to say something about ‘a dog’s dinner’ before he was halted by the Deputy Speaker for breaking Commons protocols. Brother Farage has yet to conquer the House.
Few Labour MPs bothered to attend. It was the same earlier at Cabinet Office questions. Indeed, that session had to be suspended because the House had run out of MPs.
Two government Whips, Nesil Caliskan and Deirdre Costigan, were startled when this occurred. They should have spent less of their time gawping at their mobile phones and more time watching what was going on in the chamber.
The government Whips’ office is a mess at present. Labour backbenchers possibly realise this, which may be why so many are agitating for the Chancellor to be sacked before Christmas. The Chief Whip looks semi-detached. His deputy, Mark ‘Smarmy’ Tami, is seldom seen. Another Whip, Christian Wakefield, trudges round Westminster day after day in the same crumpled suit and filthy yellow shoes, looking panicked. The only one who seems to do any work is Genevieve Kitchen, 30.
Downing Street should do something but it won’t. After all, one Whip is married to Sir Keir’s chief poisoner, Morgan McSweeney, and another is married to Amy Richards, one of Sir Keir’s top munchkins. What a crew.
