In another life, Thornberry would voice a Lamborghini satnav
Harold Wilson had his pipe; Churchill, a cigar and Homburg. For Mrs Thatcher, there were pearls and power handbags. Anthony Eden even had a hat named after him. Yet save for Theresa May’s kitten heels, contemporary politics is sadly bereft of signature “looks”.
One exception to the prevailing sartorial sterility is Liz Truss. Amid a sea of grey, the International Trade Secretary inhabits a spectrum of primary colours, reflecting Global Britain’s optimistic ambitions and her somewhat brash personality. In the Chamber yesterday, Truss – fresh from signing a deal with Japan – was true to form, sporting an ensemble of triumphant red and white in homage to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Sitting a few rows behind the Secretary of State, Dehenna Davison channelled Truss in a trouser suit of the hottest pink; a devout priestess at the altar of tariff reduction. Lauding Bishop Auckland’s beef producers, she asked how the Japan deal would benefit farmers “up and down the country”. Truss congratulated John, Jane and Becky of Grange Hill Farm on their fine produce.
When the shadow trade secretary began to speak, I was momentarily distracted by her luxuriant timbres. For Emily Thornberry has a rich, silky voice, evoking decadence. In another life, she could have voiced the satnav for a Lamborghini, or narrated adverts for Lindt chocolate. Certainly, what Thornberry had in mind was not just any trade deal, but an M&S trade deal.
“Can [Truss] please tell us which law prevents the import of pork which has been produced on farms which continue to use sow-stalls?” she said, noting with horror the inferiority of US produce (coming soon to a Waitrose near you).
Poor Liz, in her zeal to promote exporters in the Developing World, failed to spot the glaring Freudian slip in her reply: “In any trade deal we will be taking into account our high standards to make sure our farmers are undermined.”
The debate went national as MPS Zoomed in from every corner of the kingdom. For his question about lamb farmers, Geraint Davies of Swansea West displayed a giant Welsh dragon worthy of Owain Glyndwr. A portrait of Napoleon adorned Karl Mccartney’s wall, suggesting imperial ambitions in Lincoln.
“It’s a nice calm morning in the Hebrides” breezed Angus Macneil. Yet a rhetorical storm was brewing in the North Atlantic. “Can the Secretary of State guarantee no attempt will be made to grab powers from the devolved nations to present the entire UK on an easily-consumable platter to US negotiators?”, he asked, with ever-escalating drama.
In a house divided, many were united in their struggle to pronounce ‘CPTPP’. When Trump pulled America out of the first Trans-pacific Partnership discussions, he couldn’t have anticipated the verbal nightmare he was storing up. Granted, CPTPP is a bit of a mouthful, though marginally preferable to The Agreement Formerly Known as TPP.
But Greg Hands’s big beef was with a different acronym. After one criticism too many, the trade minister blasted the SNP: “They were against doing a deal with Canada … Japan and Singapore. I’ve a bit got the feeling that they are not in favour of any trade agreements.”
His colleague Ranil Jayawardena, eyes glued to his prompt-sheet, spoke bombastically of Net Zero carbon and UK offshore wind capacity – “the biggest in the world”. A fine boast to be sure; but given the Government’s recent form with “world-beating” things, his words surely represent the final nail in the coffin for the renewables sector.