Get this. You’re still 20 points behind in the polls. Some even show you to be in third place behind Reform. Your personal popularity ratings are through the floor. There’s just four days in which to stave off complete humiliation before the election. And then you discover that the person Conservative HQ has chosen to represent the government on the Trevor Phillips Sunday morning politics show is Oliver Dowden. Time for the whisky and the revolver. Was he really the best anyone could find?
It’s hard to imagine a less dynamic performer than Olive. Even if you dosed him up with several lines of amphetamines you’d be hard pushed to find a pulse. The kindest thing that anyone has ever said about him is that he’s nice but dim. The sole reason he was made deputy prime minister is his gormlessness. Just making it through the day without getting lost is enough of a struggle for him, so there’s never been any danger of him plotting against anyone. He’s like a labrador with a lobotomy.
These aren’t necessarily the qualities a prime minister is looking for when he’s trying to energise a flatlining campaign. Even Phillips could hardly believe that it was Dowden he was being asked to interview. His eyes betrayed bewilderment and despair. This wasn’t ever going to be an equal contest. The first five minutes would be spent establishing Olive knew he was on TV and that what he was saying would be broadcast.
The less said about the interview itself the better. We started on Russian interference in the election and the thought occurred that Dowden might actually be a sleeper agent. It would make more sense than the Conservatives promoting him on ability. Olive desperately tried to remember his script.
People are worried about Labour putting up taxes. From the party of tax increases. The Tories were extremely proud of everything Boris Johnson and Liz Truss had done which was why their legacy was one of which he was proud. The last five years had been an astonishing success. All of this said in a flat, disconnected monotone. Much more of this and the Democrats might have found a like for like replacement for Joe Biden. At one point he looked as if he might doze off. Then the batteries ran out and Low Intensity Olive was wheeled off the set.
Watching all this with horror in Downing Street was Rishi Sunak. He had had no idea Dowden had been designated as the Tory frontman for Sunday. Where the hell was Mel Stride? The usual go-to fall guy. Rish! needed to act quickly. To limit the damage. He quickly threw on his suit and summoned a car to take him to the BBC studios. With a bit of luck he could intercept Olive before he made things any worse on the Laura Kuenssberg show. It would be tight but he could just about make it.
So it was a rather breathless and even tetchier than normal Sunak that found himself talking to Kuenssberg at about 9.30am. If only the country would show more gratitude to him for the things he had done on its behalf. Laura could barely get a word in edgeways. I’m not sure who told Rish! that a feisty, entitled and condescending manner was the way to endear himself to the public. Maybe he just can’t help himself. Perhaps he’s just not a very nice man.
“Stop talking when I’m trying to interrupt you,” snapped Sunak. Time and again. He can turn any interview into hostile environment training. Almost as if he had thought it was a BBC plot to send Dowden out on Sky an hour ago. Even the gentlest questions were treated with suspicion. Maybe things hadn’t gone quite as well as they might have done over the past 14 years? Just not true, said Rish!. Everyone was a lot better off. They just didn’t realise it. False consciousness. Those Russian bots again. Hell, he should know. His family had earned – he used the term loosely – about £135m in the last year alone. What more could anyone want?
At one point Sunak tried to claim he was a successful businessman. Er, not quite. You were a hedge fund junior manager for Goldman Sachs making money by betting against the pound. The noblest profession of them all. Talking of Goldman Sachs, Laura reminded Rish! that his old bank – along with the Office for Budget Responsibility – had said that Brexit was a disaster. Cue more anger, more interruptions, more patronising. People should bloody well get on and enjoy Brexit. Take advantage of the benefits of a 4% cut to GDP.
Kuenssberg moved on to racism in the Reform party. It was unacceptable, he said. OK, said Laura. In which case why didn’t he return the donations Frank Hester had given to the Tory party. Snippy Rish! almost lost it. There was a clear difference between Reform racists and Tory racists. A little bit of mild racism was obviously completely OK. What you would expect to find in a tolerant country. And in any case Frankie had obviously felt so bad he had decided to hand over £5m to the Tories. A sign of true repentance. Sunak ended by saying he couldn’t think of anything in the campaign he would have done differently. So D-day and betting were triumphs then. On second thoughts, maybe Olive would have done better.
Back over on Sky, Phillips was taking on Nigel Farage who was boycotting the BBC for having found an audience who didn’t like him. Nige only really likes going where he has a home crowd. He had no idea why he always seemed to attract racists and bigots, he said. It was a mystery. One of life’s curious coincidences. In any case he had had nothing to do with Reform until recently. Strange for a man who is the legal owner of the party.
There again, this was all perfectly normal for Nige. In his own mind he is the great conciliator. The man channelling the anger of the disaffected. Only he never takes any responsibility. He is a man without answers. Always has been, always will be. Much like Brexit. There he has distanced himself from the harm he has done. Everything is always someone else’s fault. Laughably, Farage claimed he wanted to bring people together. Hardly. His modus operandi has always been to exploit difference. His late onset Mr Moderate demeanour yet another hollow facade. Judge him by what he does. Not what he says.
So to the victors, the spoils … both Sky and BBC had Labour’s Pat McFadden. A man who has elevated miserabilism to an art form. Winning has never looked so joyless. He makes me sound happy. Just another day in paradise.
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