Reports that Keir Starmer has moved a portrait of Margaret Thatcher in Downing Street put me in two minds. On the one hand it could be nothing; on the other it could be the inciting incident for a major disaster drama. You know the sort of thing from TV – cold open on flashing scenes of unimaginable chaos, political besiegement and high-octane anguish, by which the viewer is provoked to think, “Stone me, how on earth did we get here?” Cue a black screen and the words: “SIX MONTHS EARLIER”. And then an immediate cut to a cheery aide going, “Morning, PM! Just had a classic silly season call about some Thatcher portrait story. Anything in it?”
In case you are not familiar with said portrait story, which after all only broke on Thursday evening while you may have been enjoying your God-given freedom to an August evening in a pub garden (more on that later), it runs as follows: a portrait of Margaret Thatcher was commissioned by Gordon Brown and unveiled in the presence of its subject in 2009, and since then has apparently hung above the mantelpiece in a Downing Street room unofficially known as the Thatcher Room. Then this week, Tom Baldwin, Starmer’s biographer, told a Glasgow book festival that he’d had a meeting with Starmer in the room shortly after he’d taken office, and remarked that it was “a bit unsettling” having “her” looking down. He says Starmer agreed, whereupon Baldwin asked him if he was going to get rid of it. The PM apparently nodded. “And,” concluded this Baldwin anecdote, “he has.”
Alas, that which delights the Scottish book festival circuit garners mixed reviews elsewhere. “OUTRAGE AS STARMER REMOVES MAGGIE’S PORTRAIT,” thunders today’s Daily Mail splash, resurrecting a rolling obsession with this sort of thing. Back in 2012, the erroneous claim that Barack Obama had got rid of a bust of Winston Churchill in the White House became a long-running cause célèbre, taken up at various times by Obama haters ranging from then-Apprentice host Donald Trump to then-London mayor Boris Johnson. There is a dedicated page in the National Archives of the Obama administration that addresses this “urban myth” in remorseless detail.
My gut (not on the political Zoe app) tells me that if Thatcher’s portrait is no longer in somewhere called the “Thatcher Room”, this could play out bigger than an interior decor story. Not that Downing Street interior decor stories can’t play out big, of course. Or that, by the time this one has run its course, Starmer mightn’t end up wishing that all he’d done was spaff two hundred grand of someone else’s money on some gold wallpaper and a £3,675 “Nureyev” drinks trolley. (Johnson’s Downing Street was very upstairs-downstairs – the staff wheeled their drinks in a suitcase; he and her ladyship preferred the Nureyev.)
Either way, a cautious Starmer Downing Street probably needs to nip this one in the bud. At this stage the PM has a number of things he could say, including:
1. Fine, I’ll put it back then.
2. Not to throw my biographer under the bus, but he’s totally wrong about this, so … bring on the bus.
3. I haven’t moved it; I’m just having it professionally cleaned.
4. I haven’t moved it; I’m just having it professionally cleaned by that Spanish lady who “restored” the fresco of Jesus in her local church. We think Monkey Thatcher looks better than the original.
5. I have had it moved – to our bedroom. Vic and I wanted it above our bed.
6. I have had it moved. Where better for the Iron Lady than the ironing cupboard?
7. There is no Thatcher Room. Literally doesn’t exist. Debate me.
8. There is a Thatcher Room but the Thatcher picture in it has weirdly completely vanished. We think it might have been swallowed into the upside-down version of Downing Street, like in Stranger Things.
9. The portrait has been replaced by a beautiful one of me. Which – and does this seem odd to you? – seems to develop a new wrinkle every time I appoint a donor to a civil service role.
10. Let’s face it, I’ll be moving that one too as my time in office wears on.
As for what, if true, the portrait story would tell us about our new prime minister, it certainly wouldn’t indicate that he lacks pettiness. Nor would it speak volumes about Starmer’s political foresight, in a week where he has seemed bent on doubling down on his long-term appearance of sympathy with the killjoy tendency. Maybe it was “winter is coming” week on the news grid. The PM began with a speech trailing budget misery that called to mind Enver Hoxha’s famous 1967 new year address, when the Albanian leader informed his people: “This year will be harder than last year. On the other hand, it will be easier than next year.” Then, in Berlin, Starmer poured cold water on the idea of free movement for the under-30s, before returning to confirm a leaked story suggesting he was pressing ahead with an outdoor smoking ban.
As opposition leader, Starmer always seemed most comfortable when telling off his opposite number. We can all agree that particular succession of prime ministers had much to be told off about – but he will have rather less success if the British public come to feel they are the ones being tutted at. Incidentally, while I have been typing this, I note Starmer’s spokesman has disdainfully declared he will not comment on the interior of No 10. We’ll see how long that one lasts. In the meantime, he has handily reminded himself that all prime ministers end up in the attic one way or another.
Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
