The Tory leadership debates on TV have not yet shut down rumours that Boris is hatching a new cakeist scheme. All the modelling still points to the Master Baker resigning—more or less—as agreed on 5th September. Then he would finish his first volume of memoirs for Lord Dacre’s shilling (working title: “It’s My Party”) before returning triumphantly to power during a party conference speech in Birmingham exactly a month later.
If brooding Boris had broken off from bashing out chapter four (“Covid, What Covid?”) to watch the five wannabe PMs wriggling through Sunday night’s debate, he would have seen no knockout blow, no soundbite moment of charismatic succession when voter and candidate clicked and fell in love. ITN’s Julie Etchingham, quietly authoritative in charge, may have triggered a “Julie 4PM” campaign among disenchanted viewers. But Keir Starmer will have been relieved. Kemi Badenoch apart, their spirits may be even lower than his.
Rishi Sunak was again the strongest candidate by far, fluent and confident, the grown up in the room, sporting scary Denis Healey eyebrows. The chancellor-turned-traitor stuck to his head prefect role, all responsibility and duty with a cut-and-paste grin. Rishi was sorry that he’d had to report the headmaster to the authorities. But “Enough is enough,” he explained (again).
Liz Truss admitted she wasn’t the slickest performer on the podium—a rare moment of self-awareness—but presented herself as the woman who delivers what she promises. Hadn’t she stood up to Sergey Lavrov, and delivered all those trade deals to replace lost EU business? Liz must be referring to those with Albania and the Faroe Islands and her excruciating dressing down by the Russian undiplomat.
And Mordaunt? Since Friday’s C4 debate, HMS Penelope had shipped more water under sustained barrage from Fleet St’s own fleet. But the underdog mooring is a crowded one. Liz told Rishi she hadn’t benefitted from his expensive opportunities at school. Colonel Tom Tugendhat was stoical, but also a bit out of things. So was Picked-On-Penny, often sounding like a motivational speaker, all teamwork and money-saving wheezes which won’t hurt anyone. Colonel Tom, the only candidate never on Johnson’s payroll, kept on invoking his military service (who knew?) and saying we all “need a clean shirt.” Or was that a clean start? He certainly wore a white one, as did Sunak. Unlike him, Tom a blue tie too. Very pre-Cameron. Older activists’ memories quickly fade in gin and heat. “What’s that blue thing round his neck, mother?”
Abandoning her blatant Thatcher tribute, Truss sported a simple red wall dress. In a rapid-fire Q&A the circular Tory firing squad touched lightly on tax cuts, the cost of living, on character, honesty and Boris, even climate change briefly (too hot for detail). Barely a mention of education, crime, health, Scotland or the wider world. Nothing to see here, move along. It’s all about US. Or was it all about YOU, the voter? They couldn’t decide. Commentators called it “fiery,” but not by French forest fire standards.
Struggling with chapter five (“My Brilliant Lockdown Plan”) Boris will certainly have registered Etchingham’s trick question: would you have the outgoing PM in your cabinet? No hands were raised, but Rees-Mogg can be expected to have promised a full report on the traitors in the morning. Who can Johnson still sack?
Whenever they could the rival pack turned blue-on-blue on Sunak, the shortish tall poppy. He was just too responsible (“I’d love to cut taxes, but…”) or too rich. Rishi defended his near-rags-to-billionaire father-in-law. He hit back against his rivals’ willingness to borrow money for current spending—not even Corbyn would do that. It was socialism! Without a live audience the blow failed to land.
HMS Penelope tried to correct Badenoch’s critique of her policy on self-ID for trans people. The issue which caught on was Brexit. They all want to move on, only after they’ve scored a few more points. When Etchingham asked the panel to raise their hands if they voted Remain, Col. Tom did so unapologetically, less so Liz Truss. She now has the zeal of the convert. Her frail grip on economic reality is scary.
On Sunday night’s evidence, Sunak clearly ought to win. He and Badenoch are the impressive voices. One of the few encouraging aspects of this dismal affair is that even when our politics have been upended by Brexit and “take back control,” by nostalgia and a touch of xenophobia, the standout candidates should be the children of immigrants.
Sunak, not as wholesome (thank God) as he sounds, twisted the knife by asking which his old cabinet colleague most regretted, being a Lib Dem or a Remainer. Miaow. Truss replied she’d been raised by lefties in Paisley and Leeds, where many people were left behind. She’s been “on a journey.” Of course she had, to arrive at this cliché-soaked evening when barely an unrehearsed sentence emerged to reveal the real person. The debate planned for tomorrow has now been called off after Sunak and Truss pulled out, apparently concerned about damage to their party’s reputation. On the basis of last night’s performance it’s no wonder.
Badenoch’s shtick is that government is about tough trade-offs, options that often include the “mad option.” All over England Tory activists stirred. Mad options, eh? They liked the sound of that. More please. Picking inexperienced Kemi—at 42 just four months older than Rishi—would be a mad option, albeit in a glorious way.
