Disillusionment rather than mutiny. That was the mood on the Labour side at PMQs. They watched, fidgeted, winced a bit and reprised weary attacks on the long-defunct Sunak government.
Culture minister Chris Bryant, in pole position on the frontbench, twisted his lanyard round his security pass and licked his lips. Terriers do that when in pain. Lucy Powell, leader of the Commons, sat with mouth agape, catching flies. Portrait of a gobdaw. Rachel Reeves, chic in powder blue, could have been the sedated victim of some dreadful shock. She did not seem to be altogether there.
At the centre of it all stood Angela Rayner, flub-dubbing her way through the gig, spluttering insults, deflecting blame. She rotated her jaw bucket and threw arms here and there, incoherent frustration encased in chintz. Mrs Rayner was again deputising for Sir Keir Starmer. It was the second Wednesday in succession he had missed. Even popular prime ministers should beware prolonged absences. Mrs Thatcher could have told him that.
With the revolt against welfare cuts in full spate, plenty of the Government’s supporters were absent. Maybe it was the warm weather. Maybe they did not trust their ability to remain poker-faced when, as inevitably happened, the opposition taunted Labour disunity and, infuriatingly, offered to help the Government push through the cuts that are needed to balance the Treasury’s books.
Kemi Badenoch had this week chosen her shadow Chancellor, Sir Mel Stride, to lead Conservative attacks. Sir Mel is a dab old hand. He announced that he and Mrs Rayner had at least one thing in common: they both thought Ms Reeves’ tax policies were dreadful. Mrs Rayner laughed. Ms Reeves looked as if she might start sobbing.
Labour’s majority is so big that it can pretty much fill its green benches twice. Yet there were gaps. Ministers were deployed to fill the holes. Children’s minister Janet Daby and energy minister Miatta Fahnbulleh were in the top corner where the Corbynite rump normally sits. They sat either side of Oldham’s Debbie Abrahams, perhaps to make sure she didn’t say anything unhelpful. Ms Abrahams has been one of the leaders of the welfare rebellion. She behaved herself. The gambit worked.
Little Keir Mather, a Whip, was perched among his backbench flock, tapping his mobile telephone against his left knee. At the far end of the chamber Hamish Falconer from the Foreign Office was mixing with the lower decks. Handsome Hamish struck angular, bendy-necked, pained-grimace poses. An unusual boy.
Kenny Stevenson (Lab, Airdrie and Shotts) slumped, shrivelled, beside Pammy Nash (Motherwell). Could have been her lunch. Calvin Bailey (Lab, Leyton and Wanstead) claimed to be outraged by opposition criticism of the RAF boss at Brize Norton after that embarrassing break-in. ‘Shame!’ cried his supportive neighbour Adam Thompson (Erewash). Mr Bailey, possibly less clever than he thinks he is, betrayed the shallowness of his attack by winking at Mr Thompson the moment the cameras were off him.
Matt Bishop (Lab, Forest of Dean) gazed at his wristwatch. A more feline Damien Egan (Lab, Bristol NE) surveyed the scene with crossed arms, slender fingers splayed.
Mrs Rayner spluttered and fluffed away, imprecision chasing non-sequitur. Gibberish geysered out of her. ‘I don’t know if he sort of listened to what I said because I was reading it off the script but I don’t need a script!’ she roared at Sir Mel, eyes glinting behind green designer spectacles. She accused the Tories of ‘having no shames’.
Fylde’s Andrew Snowden (Con) unleashed a long spiel about the next ministerial shuffle. A jeery Mrs Rayner, leaning on the despatch box with theatrical insouciance, uttered something about Mr Snowden’s own aspirations. At least I think that was the gist of it. Re-listening to it on parliamentary television is of little assistance. The thrust of her self-confident delivery won this mumbo-jumbo some half-hearted hurrahs from Labour. But quite what they were cheering, they can’t have known.
It is all going wrong and they haven’t a clue how to react.
