Starmer’s Ship Of Fools Spins Out Of Control As Reeves Hides Below Deck 

 

 

It was full-scale wriggling at the Westminster worm farm, a day when the political invertebrates glistened, twisted and snapped at each other in a frenzy of panic. The good ship RMS Starmer was supposed to be sailing smoothly after the Budget. Instead, it lurched into a humiliating whirlpool — half the crew trying to scuttle the vessel while the chief purser, Rachel Reeves, barricaded herself in her cabin.

 

Sir Keir spent the morning coiling through a press conference, sweating under the lights as he offered the nation fairy-tale claims about borrowing less and restoring “stability.” His vowels tightened into anxious knots — “mussive chullenge… oi… hedgeroom” — as he strained to reassure anyone still listening that his “moral mission” was intact. Translation: please don’t fire me yet.

 

Over in the Commons, Treasury chief secretary James Murray — a man who looks permanently five minutes from wheeling in a cadaver — shuffled to the despatch box to explain an OBR computer fiasco. The spectacle was already bleak, but then came the political equivalent of a body falling from a great height: news that OBR boss Richard Hughes had effectively sliced his career in half by resigning mid-chaos. Murray, ever funereal, immediately murmured some embalmer’s platitude about “public service” while metaphorically pushing Hughes’ remains under a glass dome.

 

By the time rumours settled, Westminster was left with the surreal image of Hughes’ two metaphorical halves wagging in the political breeze — testimony that his select committee appearance wasn’t happening after all.

 

Normally, the Monday post-Budget marks a moment of recovery — the ship steaming forward, repairs underway. Not this week. The RMS Starmer drifted helplessly, spinning in circles, while Rachel Reeves — the Remainer-turned-Reeves-conomist — was nowhere near the bridge. Instead, she was at a “Wales investment summit.” As if Wales hadn’t suffered enough.

 

Back in London, a junior Treasury minister, Torsten Bell, swanned into the Commons to contribute little except smirks and whispered in-jokes with fellow ministers. After sprinkling a few condescending asides toward the Speaker’s Chair, he floated out again — job done, self-satisfaction achieved.

 

Meanwhile, Kemi Badenoch delivered the day’s cleanest hit at the Chartered Accountants’ Hall — a Victorian temple to arithmetic and beige suits. Standing beneath murals of “Truth,” “Justice,” and “Wisdom,” she skewered Starmer’s Budget debacle with ruthless clarity: “If a chief executive behaved like this before an AGM, they’d be sacked.” When an FT reporter asked whether she still believed Rachel Reeves was a liar, Badenoch didn’t miss a beat. Just one word: “Yes.”

The room of accountants erupted into laughter — possibly the only time that staid hall has witnessed genuine emotion.

 

The Starmer project promised order, stability, grown-up governance. Instead, Labour has delivered wriggling worms, broken compasses, disappearing ministers, and a Budget that has collapsed under its own contradictions. And as the ship turns in circles, Reeves remains locked away, Starmer mutters about his “moral mission,” and Westminster watches, baffled, as the Labour government eats itself alive.

Key Takeaways

• Starmer’s post-Budget operation descends into chaos and internal panic.

• OBR boss Richard Hughes resigns amid data fiasco, deepening crisis.

• Badenoch torches Reeves as a liar, winning rare laughter from accountants.

 

SOURCE DAILY MAIL

 

 

Voters were warned about putting labour in again.............😭