Security was tight at Rupert Murdoch’s London headquarters for the Sun’s “Election Showdown” with Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer. Just to go to the toilet on the 17th floor, you needed an escort. It wasn’t clear whether the organisers were worried we might get in somewhere we weren’t wanted or whether we might be trying to get out. These events need all the viewers they can get.
Fair to say, the spin room just down the corridor from where the action was taking place was not the ideal place to be. Largely because the technology was barely functioning. You get better reception on a cancelled Avanti West Coast train.
Amazing to report that one of the country’s biggest media organisations has not yet installed broadband. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone. A small army of political journalists had been locked into a room where there was at best interrupted coverage. We’d have been better off staying at home.
Then maybe that’s a metaphor for the whole debate setup, a format that gets tireder by the day. Yet again best understood as an ego trip for the broadcaster and the presenter. The idea that anyone’s minds might be changed by anything that is said is a category error. If you’re looking for intelligence, you’re in the wrong place. This is strictly entertainment. If you can call it that. Not exactly the Euros.
Right from the start there were technical problems. Time and again the screen froze, leaving presenter Harry Cole and the two party leaders as frozen pixels. Maybe we were the lucky ones. Spared a few minutes of pain. Sometimes we were just left to fill in the gaps. Not always that hard, as Sunak and Starmer have pretty much got their answers off pat by now. There is no such thing as a new question in this election. Except when a new Tory scandal breaks.
We unhappy few. And I’m including those watching at home. All the security had suggested that this was a mega event, but a check on YouTube revealed that only 2,246 people were watching at the start, a figure that would rise to just over 7,000 at its peak. Non-league football teams get bigger crowds than that. For context, Channel 4’s dismal immigration debate starring the half-witted Chris Philp had attracted 400,000 viewers. And that was piss-poor. The tension was almost … something. But nothing resembling tension.
First up was Rish!. The order had been decided earlier by tombola. Predictably, the opening question was on the gambling scandal. Equally predictably, the screen started buffering. Sunak started thinking there might be a god after all. Though it was only a fleeting visit, as the tech recovered for us to hear that Rish! was still incredibly angry.
So angry that he appeared to be paralysed as he has yet to do anything about it. Craig Williams has admitted to putting on a bet, but Sunak is still demanding greater proof before suspending him as a candidate. He really doesn’t seem to have thought this one through. Or maybe he’s just quite happy if it turns out that many of his team feel happy breaking the rules. A perk of the job for their unswerving loyalty.
At this point the internet fortuitously cut out again, and by the time it returned we were on to a new topic. Loosely filed under “Why is everything so rubbish when the Tories have been in power for the last 14 years?” Now the Rish! tetchometer went off the scale. Sooner or later it’s odds on that he will get out of his seat and punch someone. His first move is always to pick a fight with whoever dares to ask him a question. And this was an audience of Sun readers. About as close to a home crowd as Sunak gets these days.
Then came the small boats. “If I were your prime minister,” Sunak said, “people would be on the plane to Rwanda.” This was tragic. The Freudian slip par excellence. A betrayal of his subconscious. He’s already checked out. Given up. Because he is our prime minister for the next 10 days and the only planes leaving for Rwanda are scheduled flights. His policy has failed. But the audience was in a forgiving mood. The applause was polite. At least he wasn’t Liz Truss. A low bar, but he’ll take whatever he can get.
After a brief pause while the education secretary, Gillian Keegan, and Jonathan Ashworth, the shadow paymaster general, shouted at each other for five minutes, attention centred on Keir Starmer. The one beneficiary of the unending debateathon as it’s given him the opportunity to refine and improve his answers. At the start of the campaign he appeared flat-footed; now his team have done his thinking for him and have given him credible answers.
Asked about his previous support for Jeremy Corbyn, Keir gave his best explanation yet. He had been working on the inside trying to change the Labour party. Keeping Jezza on track inasmuch as he could. Others had worked from the outside. Together they had made Labour a proper opposition. Not everyone in the audience was convinced, but then you’re not going to please the whole crowd. It was enough for him to appear plausible.
“You said you would rather one of your family died than go private,” declared one Sun reader. Er, that’s not what I said, interrupted Keir. The NHS is the best place for emergency treatment. I merely said I wouldn’t jump the waiting list queue. It’s what you have a right to expect from someone who is in charge of running the NHS. This drew some applause. Heckles from others. Keir looked unbothered.
Come the end, we were treated to a little light spinning. The Tories had chosen not to send out James Cracknell, the candidate for Colchester. He had earlier declared his own party a “shower of shit”. Instead they had hand-picked Chris Heaton-Harris, fresh from his car-crash series of interviews on the BBC. Presumably a cabinet minister who isn’t even standing in the election is the best they can get these days.
“Hello, beautiful people,” he said chirpily. He wasn’t that bothered about the debate either. He’s checked out already. We all have.
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