How predictable, how awful, how depressing, but most of all how very, very, very drear of Keir.
Despite earlier pledges that he would stay on in the House of Commons until the next General Election, Sir Keir Starmer has surprised no one by announcing he is to stand down as an MP to focus on a role in ‘international affairs’ instead.
Look at you, dear Keir. Such a big, important muffin of self-puffing global grandiosity. I mean, international affairs? What might they be? A breakfast meeting with a junior attaché in Tuvalu; a photo op with Zelensky; an exchange of decorative crystal with the supreme leader of Lower Malta?
It’s not as if you distinguished yourself on the world stage during your two years as British Prime Minister. No one has forgotten when you mistook an interpreter for the president of South Korea, or when President Trump made you stick your hand in the air like a schoolboy begging for attention.
You tried to give away the Chagos Islands, you failed to establish a unified stance on the Israel-Gaza conflict, you even made Peter Mandelson our ambassador to the US. Keir, you are an embarrassment, a naïve fool, a constipated, ongoing cultural cringe with all the oratorial skills of a squeaky, slowly deflating balloon.
Nothing in your past qualifies you for a self-appointed role as an international statesman of the future, except your own gilt-edged belief in your diplomatic skills, an affectation shared by few.
Yet, just like a depressing number of leaders and prime ministers before him, Starmer has decided that he is not going to hang around on the back benches post-power.
So crushing for voters! It makes me feel that we are not a valued electorate whose views matter, but just – please steady yourselves for this truth bomb – collateral damage in the power plays of greedy individuals whose determination to become post-political, revenue-creating celebrities is nothing short of monstrous.
It is not as though Sir Keir Starmer distinguished himself on the world stage, Jan Moir writes
Despite his many promises, Starmer will not continue to honourably serve his constituency of Holborn & St Pancras; specifically, those trusting people who voted for him in the first place, generously providing his platform and route to power.
He will not repay their loyalty by fixing local bus services, the high levels of child poverty or the wealth inequality in a community where £5million townhouses and impoverished social housing estates occupy the same postcodes.
You’d think this would be enough to occupy a true socialist for the rest of his political lifetime; such a juicy microcosm of social inequality set within five square miles of inner London, somewhere a man with a mission could really make a difference. Especially after serving six years at the head of a party which runs on the petrol of envy politics and perceived inequality.
Instead, all this class agony is now in Starmer’s rear-view mirror as he presses pedal to the metal and accelerates into his new life. In many respects he’s like Brooklyn Beckham; talentless but addicted to fame. He’s like Prince Harry; powerless but drawn to the stage and the spotlight he feels his status affords him.
He’s a political Cinderella; a blushing wannabe who feels he deserves the glass slipper of international eminence and doesn’t care that his actions have sparked a by-election – one he knows his party might lose, ushering in the spectre of boob-whisperer Zack Polanski snaffling this prime London seat, dear God.
These are not the actions of a patriot, a man we can salute and admire. These are the manoeuvrings of a second-rater out for himself, a politico with an eye on the main chance and hopefully a luscious book deal for his ditch- water memoirs.
And he’s not alone. A distressing number of recent leaders have taken this stance. David Cameron vowed he’d see through whatever verdict the British people delivered in the Brexit referendum, only to flounce off and resign five minutes later.
Tony Blair took a similar view, and went on to make millions for himself, not the country he left behind. Boris Johnson left the House of Commons within a year of losing power, Liz Truss wasn’t given much choice and was booted out by her own electorate, Rishi Sunak stayed on, but one could argue he could afford to, so he did.
Meanwhile, former SNP leader and First Minister Nicola Sturgeon left high office saying she wanted to spend more time with her nieces and nephews. Never mind the scandals massing on the horizon like apocalyptic storm clouds.
Nobody seems to care that Nicola has left Scotland in a red-hot, boiling mess with her husband in jail and a fiscal deficit of £25billion as she reinvents herself as a London-based literary ‘star’ who is considering writing her first novel.
‘I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least try,’ was the gist of her simpering messaging on Instagram this week. The utter nerve of this woman and these people, who leave us and their countries in disarray, but glide on to the next triumph in their own gilded lives.
There was a time when politicians who held high office would do the decent thing and hang on to see what they could do for their country and their constituents, instead of focusing on themselves.
Now it seems like every man (and every Nicola) is out for themselves.
Sir Keir Starmer rinsed through his time in office like a barrel going over a waterfall, like a snowball tossed off an Alp. He didn’t make much of a difference, we never really knew what he stood for, yet now he somehow sees himself as a global grand vizier; striding across the international stage, staying in a Davos hotel suite on someone else’s dime, ordering the cheese plate and chuntering on about policy to roars of applause in some UN enormodome.
Would golden epaulettes on his off-the-peg suits be a touch too much? He is probably ordering them as we speak.
Nicole’s dress is sheer magic!
Nicole Kidman stunned onlookers in her absolutely epic, black Versace dress in LA this week
Can we just pause to salute Nicole Kidman’s absolutely epic Versace dress, which she wore to the premiere of Practical Magic 2 in LA this week?
The hand-crafted, black lace confection with matching choker was the debut outfit by the label’s new designer Pieter Mulier. The former architect was appointed in February and has wasted no time in putting the struggling label back on the map.
Behold the drama! Somehow this dress marries saloon-girl chic with power-woman grit, making it both seductive and sensational, classy rather than tarty, and somehow entirely appropriate on a 59-year-old woman. That is what great design does, it makes everyone want to applaud it, wear it or just worship it from afar. And that really is practically magic.
Clancy trial is a terrible tragedy – not reality TV
Lindsay Clancy’s murder trial has become entertainment for some, despite the issues at stake
By the time you read this, anything could have happened in the Lindsay Clancy trial. The deadlocked jury could have come back into court and finally made a decision, delivering their verdict after nearly a week of struggle. This would bring some relief, no matter how controversial the judgment might be.
However, if they fail to reach a consensus, the judge could declare a mistrial, bouncing everyone back to a hellish square one.
For a hung jury leaves everyone in limbo; the prosecution have not proven Clancy’s guilt, the defence have not established her innocence, and Clancy would be sent back to the mental health hospital where she’s been detained since 2023, still held on the same charges. A new trial, a plea bargain, all charges dropped? Your guess is as good as mine.
One thing, however, will not change. And that is the terrible, sickening circus that has grown up around this case, surely one of the saddest to ever be brought before a court. The tragic facts are that Lindsay Clancy strangled and killed her three children before slashing her wrists and throwing herself out of a first-floor window, leaving her in a wheelchair.
The 36-year-old former nurse (right) does not dispute that she killed her two sons and daughter in their family home in Massachusetts. Her lawyer argues she was suffering from postpartum psychosis at the time and therefore could not distinguish right from wrong. The prosecution claim Clancy made a calculated decision to kill them. She is charged with three counts of first-degree murder.
In court, her eyes are dark pools of horror, her life over and her future doomed, whatever the legal outcome. Yet, for far too many voyeurs, her trial has become just an entertainment; a pass-the-popcorn, thrill-a-minute amusement for clowns so high on the excitement of it all they forget they are witnessing the harrowing proceedings of a murder trial, not a TV show.
It is grievous that these rubberneckers lack the morality, decency and intellect to appreciate the gravity of these terrible proceedings. One ‘true crime follower’ has been arrested for photographing the jury. A journalist was fired by her magazine for giggling and winking in court. Every day the TikTok mob scrutinise complicated medical testimonies from experts as if considering the words of contestants on a reality show. The mums who post pictures of their babies on social media, saying it could have been me! The armchair sleuths who claim it was the husband that dun it.
Deciding on this case is a lot to ask of a jury, who under US law must unanimously reach a conclusion of ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’. If they cannot, the judge can call a mistrial. There is no majority verdict option, as there is in the UK. Their task has not been made easier by the ghouls following every twist and turn of this case as if it were a soap opera.
The eco-meepers are back
Just Stop Oil returned to Parliament Square this week, glueing themselves to the road nearby
Summer has almost gone, there is an autumnal chill in the air and – please God no! – Just Stop Oil protesters are back after 17 months of peace.
Dozens of these eco warriors were arrested after glueing themselves to a carriageway near Parliament Square this week, just when Prime Minister Burnham was due to decide on whether to allow drilling on the Jackdaw and Rosebank gas and oil fields in the North Sea.
After being detained by the Met Police, the protesters complained about their ‘draconian’ bail conditions. Hankies at the ready, because several of them had their ‘train tickets, senior rail cards and oyster cards confiscated, before being released between 3 and 5am with no means of communication or way home’.
This approach is disgraceful, they meeped. You have to laugh. Heaven forbid they should be inconvenienced after holding thousands of hard-working Londoners to ransom.
Well done, the Met. You played a blinder.
Spain’s women’s football association are to pay for players to freeze their eggs. The agreement would give national team members access to fertility treatment, so they can focus on their sporting career but still have the option of motherhood later.
Is that a good idea? Critics warn it risks making delayed motherhood the norm in elite sport, while supporters argue having a family should not mean sacrificing a high-level playing career. One dream should not have to cancel another dream, they say.
Well, while I admire the sentiment, many things in life are a choice, especially if you are a woman. Encouraging another generation of girls to think they can have it all is, at best, irresponsible.
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