An appearance before the liaison committee – the supergroup of select committee chairs – is usually something that strikes fear into any prime minister. Sleepless nights. Panic attacks. Boris Johnson was so phobic that he frequently binned his invitations to show up. Not that it did much good. He was only delaying the inevitable. The whining schoolboy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to school. Theresa May was just gnomic. Short elliptical sentences, signifying nothing. A face bathed in misery.
Keir Starmer has been a refreshing change to all that. Not just accepting his lot. A necessary final 90-minute endurance act before he could pretty much knock off for Christmas. Instead, he actively sought an invitation. Sending out a reminder to the committee before it had even thought about a possible date. Pestering them to get their act together. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. Four-and-a-half years of being ignored as leader of the opposition had been more than enough. This was Keir Time.
It turns out that being asked questions about what he has been doing is Starmer’s idea of fun. It satisfies his inner civil servant. There’s nothing he likes more than going on and on about himself. Setting his inner ChatGPT to talking in triplicate. A chance to repeat old favourites such as “I didn’t want to inherit a £22bn black hole”. Not entirely true. Think of how miserable you’d have been if the economy had been in good working order. There would have been nothing much to talk about.
So here’s the thing. When Keir was in opposition he gave the impression of being an easy man to read. Not the most charismatic man on the block, but someone you could rely on. The country bought shares in him – partly because they couldn’t stand another minute of the Tories – but also because he sounded like someone who would keep to his word. We’d had enough of chancers. Time for an honest plodder.
Five months on and not everyone is quite so sure. It’s just possible that Starmer is an exceptional poker player. Cool Hand Keir. A man with the confidence to go all in on a big hand with a pair of threes.
Look at the evidence. Either you’ve got to believe that there is some master plan – that the bad headlines over freebies, inheritance tax, winter fuel allowance, Waspi women and the economy were all priced in from the start. Part of the roadmap that will lead the country to the promised land in four and a half years time. All will be for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
Or else you’ve got to wonder if he’s in denial. That he doesn’t quite realise just how bad the situation is. The Financial Times is even warning of stagflation. Every government’s nightmare. Nor has it crossed his mind that it might be time to admit that he got one or two details wrong. A Keir that only exists in a binary world. No room for nuance. You take your pick which is the real Keir. I genuinely have no idea.
There again, maybe the liaison outing wasn’t the best place to examine the Starmer psyche as, by any stretch, it wasn’t the most demanding of committees. Most of its members were Labour MPs and more or less warmly disposed to him and no one really wanted to put the boot in too hard. After all, Keir has only been the job a short while so you can hardly blame him for everything just yet.
Meg Hillier, the committee chair, got things under way by welcoming the prime minister and thanking him for his cooperation. You’ve seldom seen Keir look so thrilled. Bring it on. He’d dreamed about this day for much of his adult life. Then down to business. How did he plan to deliver growth? Starmer shook his head. There had been a decade of stagnation. The first mention of the £22bn hole. It wouldn’t be the last one.
“Yes, yes,” said Hillier. “We know all that. But what are you going to do about all that?” There was going to be growth across the whole country, he insisted. Big growth. The biggest growth. We just needed to reform planning and regulations. That was it. Let the good times roll. And was he still promising that the UK would be the fastest growing economy in the G7? Sure thing. The IMF might be forecasting only minimal growth for the UK but he had a plan to torpedo the economies of the rest of the G7. Job done.
After that, time tended to stretch alarmingly towards eternity as rather dull, friendly questions were met with dull, friendly answers. Anyone hoping to learn something new from this was to be disappointed. Only my coughing kept most people awake. Liam Byrne spoke for many of us when he declared that “in the long run, we’re all dead”. Yes. But how would those of us watching the committee necessarily know?
The most challenging exchanges came from the Liberal Democrat MP Alistair Carmichael on inheritance tax for farmers. But they passed in a heartbeat of certainty. Keir was right and the farmers together with their accountants were wrong. They just had to shut up and wait to die. Then they would realise everything was hunky dory. It sounded almost an attractive offer.
Toady of the day went to Labour’s Tan Dhesi. “Thank you for your dedication to duty and service to our nation,” he schmoozed. Keir didn’t blush. No need. It was about time someone had said that. “What keeps you awake at night?” Dhesi followed up. Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all, Starmer replied. He could sleep easy knowing that the UK at last had a prime minister in whom he could trust.
Just as everyone was beginning to flatline, Hillier had one last question. If he could have done just one thing differently since he took office, what would it have been? Was there anything on which he could have improved? Keir looked bewildered. Of course not. What an idiotic question. Hillier persisted. Go on. Just one thing. Alright then. Perhaps he could have tried not to be such a perfectionist. Or so modest.
With that, we were all granted a merciful release. Keir seemed disappointed not to go on for another hour or more. Still, he had things to do. Time to appoint some peers. That was always fun. Arise Lord John Crace.
Taking the Lead by John Crace is published by Little, Brown (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
