Sir Keir Starmer's authority appeared punctured beyond repair as he visibly deflated before the eyes of the House of Commons. The Prime Minister had nothing substantial to offer in his defence, prostrating himself before Parliament and begging for mercy that nobody was willing to grant. A slow, ceaseless release of political air could almost be heard escaping his leadership balloon as the session progressed.
Badenoch's Surgical Interrogation
Kemi Badenoch kept bayonetting the wounded Prime Minister with relentless precision. All the fight seemed to have drained from Sir Keir, the former star prosecutor who once so piously berated Boris Johnson over comparatively trivial matters. This current scandal proved far nastier, involving allegations of sexual pressures, betrayal of Cabinet secrets, financial greed potentially involving Kremlin roubles, and a significant diplomatic foul-up in Washington DC.
Labour backbenchers watched their flailing leader with what could only be described as a cold, sinister silence. Only a few, including Matt Turmaine from Watford, had bellowed support when Sir Keir arrived at 11.59am. Once Mrs Badenoch had the nasal knight in serious trouble, forcing him to admit he knew all along about Peter Mandelson's compromised position, even Mr Turmaine fell silent.
The Damning Admission
Through the whistling stillness of the chamber came Mrs Badenoch's insistent interrogations. She maintained a cool, shimmeringly superior demeanour throughout. For the third time, she demanded to know whether the official vetting of Mandelson had disclosed the Epstein-related dirt. Sir Keir could no longer dissemble or evade, finally admitting: 'Yes it did.'
To witness the head of the British government appearing so helpless at the despatch box was what one observer described as 'goolie-shrivelling'. Sir Keir's closest allies seemed uncertain where to direct their attention. Treasury Minister Lucy Rigby, his latest favourite, threw her gaze sideways away from him. Shadow Health Secretary Wes Streeting stared hard at the Tory front bench instead. Shadow Home Secretary Yvette Cooper maintained an uncomfortable, almost side-saddle pose without moving a muscle.
Labour's Discomfort on Display
On the Labour backbenches, the discomfort manifested in various physical tells. Torcuil Crichton from the Western Isles rubbed his beard thoughtfully, while Peregrine Moon from Camborne frowned deeply and Jess Asato from Lowestoft glowered at the ceiling. Arch-loyalist John Slinger from Rugby had turned scarlet with apparent embarrassment. Graeme Downie from Dunfermline squeezed his hands between his thighs nervously.
Sir Keir's relatively new parliamentary aide, Jon Pearce, could not stop jiggling his legs throughout the ordeal. During Prime Minister's Questions, Sir Keir had described Peter Mandelson's 'lying' as 'beyond infuriating', but behind him sat what appeared to be a sullen parliamentary party already mourning his diminished authority.
The Process Defence Crumbles
Sir Keir insisted that Mandelson 'lied and lied and lied', arguing that the task of both a prime minister and a star prosecutor should be to see through such deceits. With constipated desperation, he repeated: 'There was a process!' Yet this defence rang hollow as his parliamentary party sat through what resembled a funeral procession for his credibility.
After PMQs concluded, Sir Keir quickly skedaddled from the chamber, clearly scalded by the experience. The Conservatives then initiated their opposition-day debate calling for full publication of all Mandelson-related papers. Sir Keir had attempted to insist on a limiting amendment to control the damage, but this position was soon abandoned under pressure.
Rayner's Calculated Rebellion
Angela Rayner, appearing slender and in what observers described as 'feline isolation', joined the growing rebellion against the leadership's handling of the scandal. She read her intervention from a prepared script, demonstrating the calculated nature of political betrayals. What a business politics has become, where former comrades slide stilettos between each other's collar bones with clinical precision.
Mrs Rayner betrayed no emotion or excitement during her intervention. There was a bloodlessness to her delivery that chilled observers, suggesting this was not spontaneous dissent but rather a carefully orchestrated move.
Government Control Evaporates
At the despatch box, Paymaster General Nick Thomas-Symonds faced a swarm of would-be Labour interveners. At one point, six Labour MPs were simultaneously on their feet, all shouting 'will he give way?' in what resembled bees swarming a lion. The government had clearly lost control of proceedings, with the parliamentary decks being over-run by mutiny.
Dame Emily Thornberry made her presence known in shiny new bovver boots, while Dame Meg Hillier showed no mood for obedience. The Speaker instructed the minister not to hide behind any ongoing police investigation, prompting Mr Thomas-Symonds' distinctive neck twitch to work at triple-time frequency.
Moderate Territory Under Assault
The Leader of the House, Sir Alan Campbell, urgently invited Mrs Rayner outside for a private conversation as the crisis deepened. Ministers began consulting their mobile telephones anxiously as the wording of the government's climbdown reached them. The Corbynite wing of the party turned feral, with Richard Burgon from Leeds East accusing the Starmerites of 'a nasty factionalism'.
The Left appeared to be on the rampage, recolonising tracts of political territory long held by moderates. Paula Barker from Liverpool Wavertree declared of Mandelson that 'his nose was firmly in the trough', to which one observer quipped: 'So long as it was only his nose, m'dear.' The imagery suggested that New Labour was effectively on fire, with Blairism declared dead by the day's dramatic events.
