A gull’s eye view on Britain’s path forward

AHOY, my feathered friends and human counterparts! Stephen Seagull here, perched atop the highest cliff, casting my gaze over the tumultuous seas of change swirling around our dear Britain. In the midst of a storm brewed by Covid, Brexit, and the squeeze on our wallets thicker than a crab’s shell, Keir Starmer, that captain of the Labour ship, promised at the October conference a decade of national renewal. Squawk! What a vast ocean to navigate, with many a fish and foe alike.

The wise old owl, Simon McDonald, once keeper of the Foreign Office nest, has dropped a worm of wisdom in his recent book, chirping, “The essential first step is acknowledging you have a problem.” And my fellow sky-sailor, Will Hutton, flaps his wings in agreement, squawking, “It’s time to stop pretending Britain’s nest is lined with gold and fairness.” Echoing through the skies, Mark Sedwill, a hawk from days of governance past, calls out, “We can’t help the world if we’re flapping in the same storm.”

A vast flock, two-thirds of our nation, senses the storm brewing, feeling the winds blowing us off course, according to Ipsos. Yet, a stubborn few, snug in their nests, refuse to see the gathering clouds, preferring the comfort of the status quo, blind to the need for change. Squawk!

In the squalls of debate over the Sedwill report, a feathered frenzy has ensued, especially over its proposal to molt the Foreign Office into something called Global Affairs UK. Caw! Though the name might ruffle some feathers, the essence is not just about preening the Foreign Office but rejuvenating the whole of British governance, and recognizing Britain not just for its past glory but for its present and future potential.

Yet, to the rightwing critters, this seems like a snatch at power, a squawk in the dark blaming the liberal flock for Britain’s dive. Charles Moore, perched on his Telegraph pole, and Melanie Phillips, nesting at The Times, screech at the report’s perceived self-pecking, seeing it as undermining Britain’s mighty roost.

But what really ruffles their feathers is the report’s challenge to the notion of British greatness, suggesting instead a more humble, team-player approach on the global stage. Squawk! How this contradicts the lofty flights of fancy by Boris Johnson, who once promised to make Britain the greatest roost on Earth.

Since Johnson’s nest fell from the tree, the chatter has shifted from boastful squawks to a murmur of cooperation. But the echoes of greatness linger, not just in Conservative chirps but across the landscape, from promises of Great British Railways to Great British Energy.

As we spread our wings towards national renewal, let’s not confuse it with a mere preening for greatness. The task ahead is as vast as the open sea, a challenge not faced since the great rebuilding of 1945. It calls for a flock effort, not a solo flight into the sunset of greatness.

Let us embrace a vision of Britain that’s inclusive, where boastfulness and selfloathing find no perch. I sometimes dream of a day when we simply call our island Britain, shedding the “great” as we soar beyond rhetoric into a truly greater future.

So, my fine feathered friends and grounded allies, as we navigate these changing winds, let’s remember: true greatness lies not in the squawk but in the action, not in the name but in the deed. Together, let’s flap towards that horizon, for a Britain that’s truly for all.