Prime Minister's Questions has descended into utter farce, becoming as functionally pointless as the human coccyx, the pelvic bone on a whale, or a drying-out clinic in Mecca. This parliamentary ritual, once a cornerstone of democratic accountability, has been reduced to a vestigial curiosity—a relic from more primitive political days when voters actually expected prime ministers to provide direct answers to straightforward questions.
The Evasion Strategy
For the second consecutive week, Sir Keir Starmer has abandoned any pretense of transparency. Last week, he dodged questions about petrol tax. This week, he performed elaborate verbal gymnastics to avoid addressing the growing scandal surrounding Peter Mandelson's controversial appointment. When opponents presented him with clear options A or B, the Prime Minister consistently responded with irrelevant commentary about Z.
There was barely even a superficial attempt at answering directly. Instead, Sir Keir danced back to the despatch box and essentially burst into a political version of The Goons' nonsensical Yin Tong Song—anything to avoid addressing the sticky details of l'affaire Mandelson.
Parliamentary Reactions
The entire House recognized his transparent squirming. It was manifestly clear he was snagged on dishonesty's barb, and soon the chamber was filled with laughter at his expense. Even Labour backbenchers struggled to maintain straight faces. New MP Jacob Collier from Burton and Uttoxeter sat wreathed in disbelief, while York's Rachael Maskell displayed similar astonishment. A Left-wing observer in the gallery next to this reporter gurgled with open mockery at the spectacle.
Badenoch's Persistent Questioning
Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch went straight for the Prime Minister's throat, refusing to let him escape scrutiny. Last week, Sir Keir had attempted to avoid questions by releasing Mandelson-related documents immediately after PMQs concluded. Badenoch was determined not to let that tactic succeed again.
Her central question was devastatingly simple: "Did he speak personally to Peter Mandelson about Jeffrey Epstein?"
Sir Keir responded with muttered references to "process" and offered a hurried apology for the Mandelson appointment before abruptly shifting to shouting at Mrs. Badenoch about the Iran war. When she repeated her question with parliamentary precision, Sir Keir claimed that Lord Mandelson "was asked questions," then angrily deflected by questioning Badenoch's judgment regarding military conflicts.
The Speaker's Frustration
Speaker Hoyle attempted to soothe Opposition protests but clearly recognized that Sir Keir was taking advantage of parliamentary procedures. "I'm not responsible for the answers but it's certainly not Opposition questions," the Speaker declared twice, highlighting the breakdown in proper questioning protocols.
Snowden's Direct Challenge
Conservative MP Andrew Snowden from Fylde delivered perhaps the most devastating intervention. With astonishing fluency, he returned to the Mandelson affair, marveling at Sir Keir's "prescriptive nonsense" non-replies before posing the fundamental questions: "What is he scared of? What is he hiding?"
For what seemed the umpteenth time, the question was put directly: "Did he speak to Mandelson personally before appointing him ambassador?"
Sir Keir, prickling with indignation and stiff as a banana, repeated his stock response: "We've set out the process," before launching into yet another rant about unrelated military matters.
Broader Evasion Patterns
The Prime Minister's deflection strategy became increasingly absurd as the session progressed. A Northern Irish MP asked about parliamentary votes on Iran policy, only to receive a screamed response about Sir Keir's supposedly "clear and unwavering" principles—a claim that drew laughter given his reputation as the "great U-turn artiste."
When Reform's Nigel Farage raised oil and gas exploration, Sir Keir began raving about war again, prompting groans and shaken heads across the chamber. His responses wandered through references to Tommy Robinson, Hindu Diwali celebrations, Passion plays, NATO, and even Greenland—none of which had been raised in the original questions.
The Unanswered Core Question
Mrs. Badenoch, displaying the persistence of St. Peter, made a third attempt: "He has repeatedly told us Peter Mandelson lied to him but he won't tell us if he actually spoke to Mandelson. If he didn't speak to him, how can he say he lied to him?"
Sir Keir's response—"The process is clear..."—was drowned by a whoosh of noise from the Opposition benches. He then attempted to deflect by complaining about a Tory frontbencher's controversial comments about Muslims, but this clumsy subject-changing proved too leaden and galumphing to succeed.
As Mrs. Badenoch concluded: "We can only assume he did not speak to Peter Mandelson." This logical deduction hung in the air, unanswered and damning.
Eroding Credibility
One would like to believe our priggish Prime Minister is not actually a bluffing liar, but with each passing week of this parliamentary nonsense, that charitable interpretation becomes increasingly difficult to maintain. The spectacle of PMQs has transformed from a mechanism of accountability into a theater of evasion, leaving observers to wonder whether this institution retains any meaningful purpose in contemporary British politics.
