Sarwar's Assassination Attempt on Starmer's Premiership Misfires Spectacularly
When plotting a political assassination, it is generally advisable to ensure your weapon is properly loaded. At 2:30 PM from a symbolic grassy knoll in Glasgow, Scottish Labour leader Anas Sarwar attempted to execute Sir Keir Starmer's premiership with what he imagined would be a Day of the Jackal moment. The telescopic sights were aligned, the target was in view, but when Sarwar pulled the trigger, nothing happened. The bungler had goofed it completely.
A Poorly Executed Plot Revealed in Advance
Everything had been meticulously planned, or so Mr. Sarwar believed. He was so proud of his scheme that he alerted the press beforehand and even telephoned his supposed friend Sir Keir to inform him of his intentions. Afterwards, Mr. Sarwar mumbled, "It's fair to say, he and I disagreed." The No. 10 swear box is now considerably heavier with pound coins as a result.
Lesson two for would-be Gavrilo Princips: warning your intended victim is never a wise strategy. It merely encourages them to don bullet-proof protection or, in Sir Keir's case, to mobilize David Lammy to orchestrate a series of social media messages from Cabinet ministers expressing unwavering devotion to the Prime Minister. This countermeasure was deployed just one minute before Mr. Sarwar commenced his speech in Glasgow.
Cabinet Ministers Rally Behind Starmer
Meanwhile, Sir Keir's press secretary, Tim Allan, was metaphorically exploded while sitting at his desk. Just: BANG! And he was gone. The situation became messy as Cabinet ministers plotted their response to the unfolding drama.
Like many fanatics with a murderous glint in their eye, Mr. Sarwar repeatedly invoked his homeland during his failed assassination attempt. "MycountryScotland" was how he phrased it—as one word. "My first priority is to mycountryScotland," he declared, uttering the phrase six times throughout his speech. We will undoubtedly hear it again when Mr. Sarwar faces political consequences.
A Week of Political Turmoil and Strange Rumours
What a Monday it proved to be. Following Sunday's Captain Oates moment by Downing Street's chief poisoner, Morgan McSweeney, the week began with an ominous silence from Cabinet ministers. Where had they all disappeared? The only junior minister available to answer questions on the wireless was the education department's Lady (Jacqui) Smith, considered third XI material at best.
While the Cabinet schemed, another No. 10 mishap occurred. A British Airways flight simulator had been installed outside 12 Downing Street, the traditional home of the Chief Whip. Who needed artificial turbulence when real political storms were brewing?
Starmer's Response and Internal Party Dynamics
Inside No. 10, Sir Keir cancelled a planned speech on political standards of behaviour and instead delivered a pep talk to his staff, urging them, "we go forward!" Coincidentally, those were the exact words spoken to a daughter during her first driving lesson, which ended with a Nissan Micra parked in Mrs. Edwards's hedge.
Talk swirled of a "caretaker prime minister," and even wilder rumours suggested that defence minister Al Carns might become PM simply because of his muscular physique. Mr. Carns is so proficient at pull-ups that his head once dented the ceiling of the parliamentary gym. Unfortunately, he is less fit intellectually, often stumbling at the Commons despatch box and beginning sentences with the word "myself."
The Aftermath and Political Fallout
Back in Glasgow, Mr. Sarwar faced questions and described Sir Keir as "someone I have a certain level of loyalty to"—despite having just called for his removal. His mad bid to eliminate Sir Keir failed spectacularly, thanks to the flurry of "we support Starmer" tweets that flooded social media.
Angela Rayner, deploring "party politics and factional games," stated she did not want him out—at least not yet. Barely a handful of Labour MPs attended a Commons statement on parliamentary standards, and those who did appeared crestfallen. Nevertheless, the nasal knight would live to honk and cronk another day.
Starmer's Understated Return to Parliament
Just before 6 PM, Sir Keir arrived at a Commons meeting with his MPs and peers. His entrance turned no heads; he was merely a small, silent figure, devoid of pomp, as unprepossessing as a librarian heading to the stacks. His entry was met with thirty seconds of strained applause.
Mrs. Rayner, clad in a crushed-strawberry trouser suit, sailed in afterwards. Although only a backbencher, she used the door reserved for cabinet grandees, and no one dared challenge her. The political drama had concluded, but the repercussions would undoubtedly linger.
