Labor counters seemed less crowded – maybe some were still picketing? On Tuesday, Arthur Scargill made it to the Tories by appearing on RMT pickets, fresh from his Barbican grace and favor, and wearing the iconic Battle of Orgreave baseball cap to fully recognize his name. Twenty-five Labor MPs had followed suit. But Chris Elmore, who had the first question, opened up with something completely personal – Carrie Johnson, this FCO job and the mystery of the disappearing news. Did the Prime Minister ever think, he asked, “the appointment of his current wife to a government position?” The Tories’ benches evaporated, but the prime minister, who only blushed for a moment, returned to his oiled formula to answer difficult questions. Accusing Elmore of engaging in “non-existent media jobs”, he went into filibuster mode, launching an off-topic attack on the government’s biggest successes, which were delivered in two hours, reminiscent of a modern general. He did this in all moments of difficulty, which sometimes meant breaking his words. A boast about the “fiscal firepower” became a “natural firepower” – although to be fair, the Prime Minister never had too many problems with this score, at least in the Genghis Khan. Sometimes his words were completely unexplained. a series of turkey noises swallowed by the strange “ba!” For once, Keir Starmer had put a little joy into it. Grant Shapps, he said, focused more on “working on his spreadsheet to monitor the prime minister’s unpopularity” than on trying to find a solution to the disorder. His nasal whining about bankers’ bonuses sounded a bit like a tribute to the Miliband era, but at least he wasn’t completely lifeless. The problem for Sir Keir was those annoying blows. At their first report, the Tories’ rearguards scurried like trained seals, pointing to the floor. “Your blows!” they screamed. Jarrow Kate Osborne, a PPS Worker who ignored the picket ban, was shouting for executive pay and speculation about a general strike. If Starmer had hoped to stay out of danger, locked securely in the waiting room, that would not have helped. “If she wants to support the workers of this country, I can suggest her get off the picket line!” shouted the Prime Minister, to manic applause from his colleagues. Any reference to strikes provoked ecstatic mourning from party members. So much for the “leveling” that came about so many times that the only logical explanation was some sort of draw between the Red Wall MPs over who could put it more into their own (and other people’s speeches). After a tough race, Alex Stafford of Rother Valley got his hands on four “level-ups” in a single question. Ian Blackford looked strangely restrained, which is not his style. The SNP spokesman usually prefers to launch a “fire and brimstone” operation at the first hint of scandal – keeping Westminster’s moral audacity at bay in the last days of John Knox. Carriegate would have caught his interest under normal circumstances. However, for some reason – perhaps in the form of Patrick Grady – Blackford murmured an unusually dry question about economic growth and was almost choked with ridicule. It was one of those PMQs that made everyone who saw it feel a little stupid IQ by the end. Einstein would have transformed into Stephen Fry. Stephen Fry at Forrest Gump. As is often the case, the biggest winners were the people who did not tune in.
