Sir Keir Starmer has had mixed reviews since he became Labour’s leading man. Decent and diligent, but dull. Serious and competent, but colourless and uncharismatic. Better at running a meeting than inspiring the crowd. Effective at the dispatch box, but struggling to articulate a defining vision to the country or to make a fizzing connection with the electorate. For better and for worse, it has largely been a case of no-drama Starmer over the past two years.
Nobody thought of this unflashy, cautious and fastidious man as a huge gambler. The last venue anyone expected to find Sir Keir was in the casino hurling dice at the craps table. Yet he has placed a bet with vertiginously high stakes by pledging to “do the right thing and step down” if found guilty of breaching lockdown rules. If he ends up quitting, historians will scratch their heads over how it came to pass that a law-breaking prime minister could cling to office despite numerous and flagrant instances of lockdown-busting at Number 10, while the leader of the opposition impaled himself on his honour over just one event.
