Starmer spotted an opportunity for outrage and drew himself up into a hissing cat of priggish disbelief
THERE used to be a rule, strictly enforced, that MPs did not refer to visitors in the Commons galleries. It can still be found in the parliamentary bible, Erskine May. Under Speakers Bercow and Hoyle this wise convention – which was designed to prevent opportunistic sentimentalism – has withered.
That explains how Sir Keir Starmer was able to assume such righteous indignation and depict Rishi Sunak as a shameless swine at PMQs. The Labour leader had earlier announced the presence, in the galleries, of the mother of murdered transgender teenager Brianna Ghey. We reporters scanned the galleries like mad but I confess I could not at that point locate Ms Ghey.
Sir Keir and Mr Sunak were soon lustily knocking bells out of each other, as happens at PMQs. Sir Keir was disobliging about his opponent and the Prime Minister hit back. He went into a riff about Sir Keir’s celebrated indecision – his faffing over policies such as ‘pensions, planning, peerages, public sector pay, tuition fees, childcare, second referendum, defining a woman – although in fairness that was only 99 per cent of a U-turn’.
The House was noisy. There was much laughter and gesticulating. ‘Empty words, broken promises and absolutely no plan!’ cried Mr Sunak sunnily. Another Wednesday, another PMQs, porkers’ day at the livestock market.
But Sir Keir spotted that the PM had possibly stepped on a landmine. ‘Of all the weeks to say that,’ he responded, drawing himself into a hissing cat of priggish disbelief. ‘When Brianna’s mother is in this chamber! Shame! Parading as a man of integrity when he’s got absolutely no responsibility!’
The late Brian Sewell, spotting a blob of chewing gum on the Mona Lisa’s nose, could not have been more aghast.
What Sir Keir meant was that Mr Sunak should not have mocked him over his toing and froing on transgender self-identity because Ms Ghey was present – or about to be present – in the VIP seats upstairs.
Rachel Reeves and Angela Rayner, sitting either side of Sir Keir, did not pick up immediately on the alleged mortal offence. Ms Reeves, crouching under her helmet of inky hair, was expressionless.
Ms Rayner, who has a livelier visage, seemed uncertain as to what emotion she should be projecting. It would not be accurate to say that Mr Sunak’s ‘defining a woman’ jibe – this alleged act of wickedness – had struck big Angela like a doctor’s hammer to the kneecap. If her eyes imparted anything it was ‘help, what am I meant to be thinking here?’
Nor was the press gallery speedy on the update. We scribes were still looking for Ms Ghey. She was later spotted in the company of her MP, Charlotte Nichols (Lab, Warrington North). Like most visitors to the Commons, Ms Ghey watched the wriggling mass of parliamentarians below with interest, while blinking a little at the bright lights.
WITHIN minutes, however, Labour MPs had their violins out and they were united in playing the outrage dirge. ‘Apologise! Apologise!’ they cried. ‘Shame! Disgusting! Apologise!’ This was not the only instance, during these PMQs, of emotion-politics. Mr Sunak was attacked by both Labour and Scots Nats for having seemingly agreed a bet with Piers Morgan during a television interview as to whether or not any Rwanda flights will take off before the election. This was held to be reprehensibly ‘out of touch’.
Then a Conservative backbencher stood up and described, at some length and with a certain amount of chin-crumpling, how he had suffered suicidal thoughts and had tried to end his life.
As PMQs ended, Mr Sunak sought to atone for his impolitic remarks by saying that Ms Ghey – who at that moment was deep in conversation with Ms Nichols, and therefore missed the lot – was a woman of compassion who deserved ‘all our admiration and praise’. This won no favour with Labour MPs. ‘Apologise! Apologise! Apologise!’ squawked Mr Sunak’s opponents, practically pogo-sticking out of the chamber, absolutely delighted to have a fresh source of politicised outrage.