Oh my God, cried Liz as the host swooned. It was drama, just not the sort they wanted
WELL, that was a pretty hairy moment. There was a crash, a gasp and a popping of eyeballs. Suddenly Liz Truss was holding her face in horror. ‘Oh my God!’ she yelled. Then, zoink! The programme was pulled.
We were just half an hour into the latest live Tory leadership debate on TalkTV last night when suddenly there was a heart-in the-gob, reach-for-the-gin-bottle moment. Viewers worried they might have just witnessed something horrific. As the feed went dead, the broadcaster apologised in an on-screen message for the ‘disruption’ and promised to ‘fix the issue’.
Something disastrous must have occurred, we thought. A heart attack? An electric shock? A fallen light rigging – or worse?
None of the above, thank the Lord. Turned out the debate’s moderator Kate McCann had fainted. Poor Kate. All those baking studio lights blaring into her face would be my guess. Or possibly she was finding the whole thing a trifle tedious. I, for one, wouldn’t have blamed her.
That’s the trouble with these Tory leadership debates. Too darn many of them. They’re in danger of becoming like the Rocky film franchise – daft, bloody and with no end in sight.
Choosing a new Conservative leader never used to be this complicated, you know. How party chiefs must ache for the good ol’ days when the Cabinet would simply retire to a quiet room with a bottle of port, a few cigars and eventually agree that, yes, that nice Mr Macmillan was just the chap for the job.
Last night’s debate had begun in a more civilised fashion than Monday’s knockabout affair. Peace talks between the two camps had clearly taken place. It was sober. Sensible. And as result, just a little gluey.
Our setting was a studio in west London, the same in which Piers Morgan works himself into a furious lather each evening for his viewers’ delectation.
The stage was bathed in a purple light that made Rishi and Liz’s teeth glow like they’d swallowed vials of uranium.
The programme was billed as the ‘Fight for Number 10’. The producers had done their utmost to create a pugilistic atmosphere. Flashing graphics. Thumping music. Clearly they were hoping for drama.
They got that, of course: just not the sort they wanted.
Rishi seemed to have eased a little on the caffeine since the night before.
He’d also rediscovered his manners and used his opening spiel to wish his opponent a happy birthday. Truss, 47 yesterday, shot him an icicle smile.
THE Foreign Secretary wore a purple dress the colour of a Cadbury’s Dairy Milk wrapper. Tres snazzy. She went into a brief monologue about how her upbringing was more modest than Sunak’s. ‘I know what it looks like when economic times are hard,’ she said. Rishi bit down and resisted making a tart
response. There was a bit of early titfor-tat, but nothing that required Kate to pull them apart. The candidates had a brief struggle over who had the stronger family connections to the NHS. ‘My father was GP,’ said Rishi. ‘Well, my mother was nurse!’ countered Liz.
Tempers frayed whenever Truss began to discuss her economic plans. Rishi’s blood pressure would visibly spike, his eyes flickering from side to side as if to say: ‘Leave the maths to me, luv.’
Once again their main beef was over taxes – Liz wants to cut them, Rishi thinks it’s unaffordable to do so.
He accused Truss of funding her cuts by saddling future generations with more debt. ‘That’s not true, that’s not true!’ Liz retorted, shaking her head crossly.
Might either of them consider funding tax cuts by promising to rein in government spending? Just a thought. It was soon after that Ms McCann took her tumble.
Doctor’s orders were that she was done for the evening. It must have been frustrating for Team Rishi, who are running out of time. The former chancellor has agreed to be interviewed by that fearsome rottweiler of an interviewer, Andrew Neil, on Channel 4 on Friday. For politicians, such encounters rarely end well.