Rishi Sunak‘s D-Day blunder, Sir Keir Starmer‘s free suits, Andy Burnham using the emergency alerts system for barbecuing advice: voters must often think, ‘What an idiot the prime minister is – I could do better’.
Now they have a chance. A new computer game gives players an opportunity to face various prime ministerial dilemmas and to be scored accordingly.
Imagine, for instance, that London‘s Tube has been halted by a strike. Do you cave in to the unions, back the bosses or appoint an independent mediator (‘mostly so that no one rings you again about the Circle Line’)?
Here is another problem. Within days of taking the highest office in the land you learn that the Treasury has run out of fiscal headroom and one of your manifesto commitments must be disowned to stop a run on the pound.
Do you: drop weekly bin collections; scrap a new hospitals programme and instead talk dishonestly about upgrades to existing hospitals; abort a promised tax freeze and insist that ‘economic circumstances have changed’ since the Election a week ago; or do you cancel a much-vaunted transport investment programme?
When some minister is caught in a scandal, do you, as boss, prop up party morale by defending the erring wretch? Or swing the axe before considering the facts of the matter?
There is the middle option of referring the allegations to a standards committee but that might simply appall both your supporters and your enemies.
It is not unknown for prime ministers to cause diplomatic incidents. If, say, you upset the French president (easily done, after all), do you personally telephone the Elysee Palace to apologise?
Prime Minister Andy Burnham reacts as he meets with the youth during a visit to Northern Ireland
Do you issue a public announcement insisting that your so-called insult was misunderstood and was in fact a sign of your deep affection for cher Emmanuel?
Or do you opt for the third option of sticking to your guns and saying the French deserve anything that’s coming to them? Which option is wisest?
On that one, I must confess, I had little hesitation, but then I do not have to spend G7 meetings in the same room as President Macron.
Ladies and gentlemen, I gave No 10: Full Confidence a couple of goes. As a parliamentary sketch writer I might be supposed to have a nose for what journalists want from a PM.
Well, that plainly is not true. In both games I was bundled out of office by… the media. How merciless and unpredictable they were.
As the game proceeds, your levels of support change with backbench MPs, Cabinet ministers, the media and the public. Once you hit zero per cent on any one of those four, you are out of office.
In my first attempt I survived in office for two years, ten months, worse than Neville Chamberlain, roughly on a par with Gordon Brown.
On the second go I lasted one year and nine months which was worse than Sir Keir, better than Mr Sunak and about the same as poor Sir Anthony Eden.
The game, whose inventor Benjamin Brewis was inspired by Downing Street’s recent rapid turnover of prime ministers, has been such a success that it has shot to the top of Apple’s computer-game charts.
Mr Brewis has pointed to such real-life political storylines such as the Conservative Chief Whip, Gavin Williamson, who used to keep a pet tarantula on his desk, and the time that Boris Johnson was seeking to avoid some live TV cameras and contrived to stride into a walk-in fridge.
Then there are the natural disasters that loom as if from nowhere, at present the drought afflicting so much of England and Wales.
In another of the game’s storylines, suburban London’s parakeet population gets out of control.
Should the prime minister: do nothing; set up a rehoming scheme for parakeets; or order an immediate extermination of the little pests?
Not being particularly attached to parrots, and as someone who likes politicians to be decisive, I pressed the option for the parakeet extermination.
Let rip the Purdey shotguns like the artillery’s opening salvo at the battle of the Somme, said I as prime minister.
Even as I was taking this decision, my advisers told me that the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds was issuing a statement. Uh oh.
Mr Brewis’s game, for which one pays £2.99, is quite fun for half an hour or so. Some of his scenarios betray a nicely sceptical air.
After a by-election loss, should a prime minister blame the local candidate, announce a ‘listening’ visit to the constituency in something like six weeks’ time, or give an interview insisting (while avoiding eye contact with the camera) that the swing in the vote was small enough for this, in fact, to represent ‘a great win’ for the government?
Don’t give them ideas, Mr Brewis.
One thing the game gets right, I suspect, is the time pressure. You only have a few seconds to read questions and possible solutions, and soon the sheer pace of traffic starts to make you panic.
The letters dance in front of your eyes. How easy it becomes to press the wrong button. This may be equally true in the real No10.
Where the game is at present less satisfactory is in – cough – attributing such power to the media.
In my two spells of office with No10: Full Confidence, I was toppled because I scored 0 per cent approval with the media, even though I had 100 per cent support from my backbenchers and the Cabinet.
Boris and Keir will tell you that the parliamentarians are far more dangerous than the Fourth Estate.

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