Not another one. Brenda from Bristol must be doing her nut. After sounding on Friday like the Japanese soldier who had no idea the second world war had ended decades earlier, sometime over the weekend reality had bitten for Keir Starmer. Maybe all he needed was a bit of time at Chequers to think straight. Maybe his family had also told him the game was over. But late on Saturday, reports emerged that he was planning to announce his resignation on Monday. Tellingly, there was not even one Starmer loyalist dampening down the speculation.
By the end of the summer, the UK will be on to its seventh prime minister in 10 years. There was a time when we used to make fun of the Italians for replacing their leaders every couple of years or so. Now they look like the model of stability. It is us who is the basket case. They will soon have to make more space at the Cenotaph Remembrance Sunday parade for the line of former prime ministers. Those we have loved. Those we haven’t. Those we have lost. No way of knowing if, at the going down of the sun, we will remember them. Nor is there any sign of things letting up. Who knows how many more prime ministers we will get through in the next decade.
