As the season of goodwill approaches, it’s traditional to take pity on those less fortunate than ourselves. And there are few sights more pitiable than a prime minister reduced to uttering the words “I’m going nowhere.” Keir Starmer is right, of course—he’s going nowhere fast, and dragging the country there with him—but I doubt it’s the slogan he was looking for. Starmer’s denial of reality could hardly be less convincing were he to claim the re-erected Downing Street gallows were proof of Labour’s ‘strong and stable’ government.
It was, however, not always so. Just 18 months ago, Starmer was swept to power on a tide of Tory exhaustion and middle-class yearning for ‘grown-up’ governance. And yet, in that short time, the Labour leader now finds himself beset by scandals, sinking polls, and a party that whispers of regicide behind his back. As the columnist Peter Hitchens has long forewarned, Britain under this regime may soon become “impossible to live in”—if you can, you should leave now while the boats are still going out as well as coming in.
The mirage of competence
To understand the scale of Starmer’s implosion, we must first rewind to the concatenation of events that delivered him, saviour-like, unto us. By 2024, the Tories had overstayed their welcome; the most unpopular government in modern polling history (net approval -76% under Truss, still -56% when they finally limped to the ballot box). Despite 14 years of promises on migration, legal immigration was running at record highs while the small boats crisis was totally out of control—over 45,000 arrivals in 2022 alone. Starmer’s predecessor, meanwhile, Jeremy Corbyn, was a brand so toxic even Hamas and Hezbollah were allegedly hesitant to call him ‘our friend.’ And while Nigel Farage’s latest incarnation, Reform UK, was burgeoning, it was perceived as unprepared for government.
It is against this undistinguished backdrop that Starmer appeared. He presented himself as Mr Bland—a man so lifeless, rumours are he is asked to stand in at Madame Tussauds whenever his waxwork dummy is taken off for repair. The establishment was suitably convinced by the Ming Vase strategy—a safe pair of hands at the tiller was what was required. The media fawned over him, with some going to the risible length of claiming the Starmers were ‘sexy.’ Granted, Lady Victoria is a bit of alright, but even so, Starmer himself would do well to pull at a swingers’ party for the Royal National Institute of Blind People.
Nonetheless, the electorate bought the pitch wholesale. Dissenting voices, few as they were, were drowned out. Precious few glimpsed the authoritarian zealot lurking beneath the rubber face: the man who, as Director of Public Prosecutions, failed grooming-gang victims and now pushes digital ID, mass facial-recognition rollout, and jail for ‘offensive’ speech. The only voice of substance against this was Peter Hitchens, who humorously offered to ‘take the knee’ if the public would vote against a Starmer government. His pleas fell upon deaf ears, however. The result? A landslide majority unseen since Tony Blair’s heyday: 411 seats, the Tories reduced to a rump of 121 and a working majority of 174 MPs. It was hailed as the dawn of a new era.
Instead, we got the twilight of Britain: a country where 84% of the public—a record high—say the nation is more divided than ever.
The unravelling
Eighteen months in, and the only impressive thing about the Starmer administration is its freefall from grace. It’s true, Starmer has finally discovered what a woman is—although only because the Supreme Court told him—but he comes up woefully short in terms of other Westminster playground gossip. He didn’t seem to know, for instance, that Lord Mandelson was Jeffrey Epstein’s best pal; he didn’t know either if Angela Rayner had broken the ministerial code over her tax affairs, nor whether so doing would prove a sackable offence; he was none too sure about the government’s handling of Chinese espionage, allegations of a grooming gang inquiry cover-up, or that Rachel Reeves’ £22Bn ‘black hole’ may have been slightly exaggerated. If it’s true that the ‘grown-ups are back in charge’, then they’re the same kind we always seem to get: self-serving, corrupt, lying bar stewards.
The opinion polls tell the story. Labour’s ratings have hit an all-time low, with Starmer himself crowned the most unpopular Prime Minister in history—and bear in mind, that’s up against Truss, May and Brown! Labour insiders will know things are grim when the Chancellor has to make u-turns before the Budget, the Prime Minister is forced to deny Number 10 attacks on potential leadership rivals, and those accused of plotting have to pledge their ‘faith’ in the leader.
We’ve been here before
I have long suspected that Starmer would limp on until the May elections (who else would want to take responsibility for the drubbing Labour are on course for?), but now I’m not so sure. Departure date denials rarely bode well for prime ministers. Margaret Thatcher once vowed, “I fight on, I fight to win”; she was gone just hours later. Boris Johnson claimed it was his job to “keep going”; he was gone the next day. And even Liz Truss, bless her, proclaimed she was “a fighter not a quitter”; all of which lasted 24 hours.
Moreover, Rachel Reeves’ chancellorship is in serious danger now she has been accused of misleading the public over the state of the nation’s finances. Starmer has managed to keep her in situ thus far, but if she goes, veteran political journalist Andrew Neil thinks it will be the end for Starmer too; I tend to agree with him. Meanwhile, the latest megapoll suggests that not only are Reform UK on course to win the next general election, but they could win as many as 445 seats—cutting Labour down to just 73, and the Tories facing wipeout with a paltry 7. The bookies currently have a 2026 general election as short as 8/1—that might just be a good bet for Christmas.
One saving grace
The one saving grace for Starmer right now is that the subs bench is as uninspiring as the front bench. Even if the Parliamentary Labour Party decides to mount a coup against him, who exactly do you put up in his place? Andy Burnham is not currently an MP; Angela Rayner is damaged goods since her resignation; Wes Streeting may be too divisive, particularly after recent smears from Number 10; Shabana Mahmood’s favourability has been damaged after butching up on asylum seekers; which leaves Ed Miliband, who was none too popular before the Net Zero mania.
Dead man walking or not, Starmer limps on for now, although he does stumble from time to time:
AI is pretty advanced after all, but it does occasionally malfunction when attempting to walk and talk at the same time.
Keir Starmer: Dead Man Walking
Britain’s Prime Minister Keir Starmer delivers speech in London on December 1, 2025, following reaction to the release of his government’s budget on November 26.
Gareth Fuller / POOL / AFP)
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As the season of goodwill approaches, it’s traditional to take pity on those less fortunate than ourselves. And there are few sights more pitiable than a prime minister reduced to uttering the words “I’m going nowhere.” Keir Starmer is right, of course—he’s going nowhere fast, and dragging the country there with him—but I doubt it’s the slogan he was looking for. Starmer’s denial of reality could hardly be less convincing were he to claim the re-erected Downing Street gallows were proof of Labour’s ‘strong and stable’ government.
It was, however, not always so. Just 18 months ago, Starmer was swept to power on a tide of Tory exhaustion and middle-class yearning for ‘grown-up’ governance. And yet, in that short time, the Labour leader now finds himself beset by scandals, sinking polls, and a party that whispers of regicide behind his back. As the columnist Peter Hitchens has long forewarned, Britain under this regime may soon become “impossible to live in”—if you can, you should leave now while the boats are still going out as well as coming in.
The mirage of competence
To understand the scale of Starmer’s implosion, we must first rewind to the concatenation of events that delivered him, saviour-like, unto us. By 2024, the Tories had overstayed their welcome; the most unpopular government in modern polling history (net approval -76% under Truss, still -56% when they finally limped to the ballot box). Despite 14 years of promises on migration, legal immigration was running at record highs while the small boats crisis was totally out of control—over 45,000 arrivals in 2022 alone. Starmer’s predecessor, meanwhile, Jeremy Corbyn, was a brand so toxic even Hamas and Hezbollah were allegedly hesitant to call him ‘our friend.’ And while Nigel Farage’s latest incarnation, Reform UK, was burgeoning, it was perceived as unprepared for government.
It is against this undistinguished backdrop that Starmer appeared. He presented himself as Mr Bland—a man so lifeless, rumours are he is asked to stand in at Madame Tussauds whenever his waxwork dummy is taken off for repair. The establishment was suitably convinced by the Ming Vase strategy—a safe pair of hands at the tiller was what was required. The media fawned over him, with some going to the risible length of claiming the Starmers were ‘sexy.’ Granted, Lady Victoria is a bit of alright, but even so, Starmer himself would do well to pull at a swingers’ party for the Royal National Institute of Blind People.
Nonetheless, the electorate bought the pitch wholesale. Dissenting voices, few as they were, were drowned out. Precious few glimpsed the authoritarian zealot lurking beneath the rubber face: the man who, as Director of Public Prosecutions, failed grooming-gang victims and now pushes digital ID, mass facial-recognition rollout, and jail for ‘offensive’ speech. The only voice of substance against this was Peter Hitchens, who humorously offered to ‘take the knee’ if the public would vote against a Starmer government. His pleas fell upon deaf ears, however. The result? A landslide majority unseen since Tony Blair’s heyday: 411 seats, the Tories reduced to a rump of 121 and a working majority of 174 MPs. It was hailed as the dawn of a new era.
Instead, we got the twilight of Britain: a country where 84% of the public—a record high—say the nation is more divided than ever.
The unravelling
Eighteen months in, and the only impressive thing about the Starmer administration is its freefall from grace. It’s true, Starmer has finally discovered what a woman is—although only because the Supreme Court told him—but he comes up woefully short in terms of other Westminster playground gossip. He didn’t seem to know, for instance, that Lord Mandelson was Jeffrey Epstein’s best pal; he didn’t know either if Angela Rayner had broken the ministerial code over her tax affairs, nor whether so doing would prove a sackable offence; he was none too sure about the government’s handling of Chinese espionage, allegations of a grooming gang inquiry cover-up, or that Rachel Reeves’ £22Bn ‘black hole’ may have been slightly exaggerated. If it’s true that the ‘grown-ups are back in charge’, then they’re the same kind we always seem to get: self-serving, corrupt, lying bar stewards.
The opinion polls tell the story. Labour’s ratings have hit an all-time low, with Starmer himself crowned the most unpopular Prime Minister in history—and bear in mind, that’s up against Truss, May and Brown! Labour insiders will know things are grim when the Chancellor has to make u-turns before the Budget, the Prime Minister is forced to deny Number 10 attacks on potential leadership rivals, and those accused of plotting have to pledge their ‘faith’ in the leader.
We’ve been here before
I have long suspected that Starmer would limp on until the May elections (who else would want to take responsibility for the drubbing Labour are on course for?), but now I’m not so sure. Departure date denials rarely bode well for prime ministers. Margaret Thatcher once vowed, “I fight on, I fight to win”; she was gone just hours later. Boris Johnson claimed it was his job to “keep going”; he was gone the next day. And even Liz Truss, bless her, proclaimed she was “a fighter not a quitter”; all of which lasted 24 hours.
Moreover, Rachel Reeves’ chancellorship is in serious danger now she has been accused of misleading the public over the state of the nation’s finances. Starmer has managed to keep her in situ thus far, but if she goes, veteran political journalist Andrew Neil thinks it will be the end for Starmer too; I tend to agree with him. Meanwhile, the latest megapoll suggests that not only are Reform UK on course to win the next general election, but they could win as many as 445 seats—cutting Labour down to just 73, and the Tories facing wipeout with a paltry 7. The bookies currently have a 2026 general election as short as 8/1—that might just be a good bet for Christmas.
One saving grace
The one saving grace for Starmer right now is that the subs bench is as uninspiring as the front bench. Even if the Parliamentary Labour Party decides to mount a coup against him, who exactly do you put up in his place? Andy Burnham is not currently an MP; Angela Rayner is damaged goods since her resignation; Wes Streeting may be too divisive, particularly after recent smears from Number 10; Shabana Mahmood’s favourability has been damaged after butching up on asylum seekers; which leaves Ed Miliband, who was none too popular before the Net Zero mania.
Dead man walking or not, Starmer limps on for now, although he does stumble from time to time:
AI is pretty advanced after all, but it does occasionally malfunction when attempting to walk and talk at the same time.
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