Try to think of Monday as an outlier. Just a random, crazy day in the life of a normal, high-functioning Conservative government. The sort of thing that could happen to any group of overachieving philanthropists. Men and women who never gave a thought to their own careers and only had the welfare of the little people in mind. Imagine. But anyone can get caught out by lumps of crumbling buildings. After all, who could have possibly predicted that reinforced autoclaved aerated concrete with a maximum shelf life of 50 years might start to fall to bits after 50 or 60 years? Surely some kind of category error.
So, on the second day of the new parliament, the Tories had another go at trying to prove they were not a bunch of zombie derelicts. A reset 2.0. Or 3.0. I’ve rather lost count. I expect you have, too. It depends when the present Conservative government tries to imagine it was different from the last Conservative government. That appears to be something of a movable feast.
So Raac and ruin had never happened. Or if it had, it had been in a parallel universe. Rishi Sunak had only pretended to cut capital spending on schools. Gillian Keegan’s sweary rant about no one appreciating her brilliance was a mirage. Or thanking her for coming home from a well-deserved holiday. Where was the gratitude these days? Really, there ought to be a couple of hours each week in which people should be encouraged to give thanks for – and worship – their politicians. Maybe even a financial collection to compensate RishGPT for his financial hardships.
It was business as usual, then, as Jeremy Hunt prepared to answer departmental questions. Actually, hold that thought. Just how absurd that actually is. Because Jezza may have his strong points – OK, the health service wasn’t one of them – but he knows almost nothing about economics. He is the Treasury’s Forrest Gump.
Incredible, really. After Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng crashed the economy last September, the only person the Tories could find to reassure the country was a complete halfwit who couldn’t even understand Quantitative Easing for Dummies. Because everyone else in the party had an even more tenuous grasp of economics than he did. Or they lacked his charisma. Yup, really. The gene pool of talent is skin deep.
Obviously, RishGPT meant to fire him as chancellor when he eventually became prime minister, only to discover Jezza was his only alibi for credibility. So he’s got to stay at No 11. They don’t realise it but Hunt and Sunak are in effect each other’s hostage. A parasitic existence that is keeping the Tories just about float. A confederacy of dunces.
You can see the terror every time Hunt is put on the spot. His face goes pallid and sweaty and his eyeballs explode. The man responsible for the country’s economic stability is a bundle of nerves. He doesn’t even know how much he doesn’t know. That at least would be a start. He might then be able to find a lifehack around that. But his ignorance is total. So all he can do is trot out a few bland statements and hope he doesn’t get caught out too badly.
“Um,” Hunt ventured. “Er, actually the economy is doing really well.” At least, better than expected. As in, not completely flatlining. He sounded genuinely surprised as he said this. As if he had no idea of whether this was true or not. Which, of course, he didn’t. Life at No 11 is a constant surprise to him. An emotional and political rollercoaster. Because even if the economy was performing a wee bit better than some of his colleagues had predicted – though not so much that any normal people would notice – he could be sure it was nothing to do with him. Just another of life’s surprises. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.
The opposition benches just let all this roll over them. Labour is looking and acting more and more like a government in waiting. Even most Tory MPs secretly think Keir Starmer couldn’t do a worse job than their own deadbeats. All that Rachel Reeves and her new sidekick Darren Jones, the shadow chief secretary to the Treasury, can do is pray for damage limitation. Knowing they will have to pick up the pieces in a year or so. Then the work will really start.
But Reeves couldn’t let the opportunity slip to get in a few Raac digs. She started by reminding Jezza that Sunak was implicated up to his neck. The Department for Education had wanted to rebuild 300 schools. Sunak had whittled them down to 100. And then halved it. He would be doing 500 schools over 10 years. And if some of them fell down in the meantime then so much the better. Easier to start from scratch.
That’s not true, wailed Hunt. Yes it was, replied Reeves. We know it. You know it. Get real. OK, it’s true. It’s true. But Rishi is amazing. Tears welled in the chancellor’s eyes. The sooner he is put out of his misery, the happier he will be.
That wasn’t quite the last we heard of Raac and ruin. You might have thought that after her adventures the previous day, Gillian Keegan would have wanted to go to ground. But the education secretary has the overwhelming self-confidence that you find only in stupid people who don’t know how stupid they are. So she decided to give a lunchtime interview to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2. Another train wreck. It’s almost as if she is desperate to get sacked.
Keegan was completely unrepentant. She didn’t regret anything. No one could possibly have predicted that out-of-date concrete might be out of date. Any responsible politician would have done nothing and hoped for the best. She was the fucking best. And she had never meant to imply that RishGPT had sat on his arse. Which he had. The people she really wanted to have a go at were the schools. What a bunch of useless losers. A waste of space.
In the meantime, the sense of an alternative reality continued in the Commons when Robert Jenrick gave a statement on immigration in which he claimed the government was on track to meet all its targets. No one would be in danger of meeting a foreigner ever again. It had all been a cunning plan. Torch the net zero commitments and wait for the resulting bad weather to reduce the number of small boats crossings. Simples. And, according to Honest Bob, the Tories had only been in office for a year. The previous 12 were just a fantasy. If only.
Depraved New World by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £16.99). To support The Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
