HENRY DEEDES: Rishi Sunak read out his five commandments like specials from a luncheon menu… his mood was as effervescent as a double dose of Redoxon
New Year. A time when many of us are returning to the office nursing frazzled heads, bloated bellies and tongues as rough as sandpaper.
Not so the Prime Minister. Rishi Sunak was back at work yesterday, his mood as effervescent as a double dose of Redoxon. Ladies and gentlemen, there stood the haloed figured of a man who has never suffered the agonies of a hangover.
The Prime Minister had invited the political lobby over to the East End to deliver a Conference-style speech aimed at hitting the control+alt+ delete command on his Premiership and somehow putting the Conservatives back on the front foot.
A tall order of course, what with chaos and more engulfing the country. But as just one admires the trailing jockey still thrashing the bejesus out of his ride right up until the finishing line, one must marvel at such dogged determination.
Rishi Sunak was back at work yesterday, his mood as effervescent as a double dose of Redoxon. Ladies and gentlemen, there stood the haloed figured of a man who has never suffered the agonies of a hangover
Our setting for the afternoon was the Plexal Centre in London’s Stratford, a self-styled ‘innovation nerve centre’ that houses tech start-ups. Not the sort of place where many of the pimply-faced staff wear suits to work, if you get my drift. Or shoes for that matter.
Rishi arrived on stage at 2.01pm, almost bang on time. Refreshing. His big plan was to lay down five commandments which he promised to tackle by the end of the year – high inflation, low growth, ballooning debt, our crumbling NHS and the migration fiasco.
He raised them all in a swift, breezy manner like a waiter reading the daily specials from the luncheon menu. In that oh-so-gooey voice, he referred to them as the ‘people’s priorities’ which soundly worryingly Blairish. Details on how he planned to combat them, however, were in scant supply.
As, too, was some good old fashioned red meat for Tory supporters to chew on.
Tax cuts, for instance, were barely mentioned – except in a throw-away sentence promising to consider them in the future.
Our setting for the afternoon was the Plexal Centre in London’s Stratford, a self-styled ‘innovation nerve centre’ that houses tech start-ups. Not the sort of place where many of the pimply-faced staff wear suits to work, if you get my drift. Or shoes for that matter
One to be filed in the policy drawer marked ‘Aspirational’, in other words. Groan.
It’s hard to criticise someone so obviously well-meaning. Indeed, Rishi reminds me of one of the fresh-cheeked school heroes in old fashioned comic strips, all can-do pizazz and ‘let’s go chaps’ attitude. Trouble is, he has a habit of sounding a touch naive at times.
Some of his language yesterday could have been borrowed straight from a Parish Pump newsletter. There were woolly promises to boost family life and clean up graffiti-clad communities.
Then a brief lecture on the importance of innovation. ‘The more we innovate, the more we grow,’ he observed, as though addressing viewers of Play School.
He spoke of the ‘journey’ he wanted the country to go on. Oh no! Haven’t we been on quite enough of those lately? The Prime Minister was far more impressive when dealing with questions from the media. The chap from the BBC – the one with the tortoise-paced delivery – asked how ministers would ease the pressure on the NHS.
Rishi hit back with a series of initiatives the Government was undertaking. The BBC man looked mildly surprised to receive such a detailed answer.
Someone asked why the public should think he was any different from his predecessors.
She sounded so aggressive I thought for a moment it might have been a union rep. Actually, it was Sky’s Beth Rigby brandishing her usual blunderbuss.
Rishi responded by pointing to his time as chancellor during the pandemic when he was handing out reams of spondulicks in furlough money. People saw then how he was on their side. Well, yes, although others might reflect, what with our coffers now bare, he was far too generous.
On and on the questions went, the Prime Minister never once letting his temper bubble over as it has occasionally before. Eventually, he made his excuses to leave. ‘Thank you for your time, it’s been a great pleasure,’ he said.
A whopping great fib, of course. But charmingly done all the same.
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