Starmer hasn’t even finished packing his boxes and Whitehall has already descended into a medieval tournament where the prize is a briefcase and the losers get a spreadsheet of their own irrelevance.
One MP called it a ‘bunfight for jobs’—which is what happens when 650 people realize simultaneously that only about 120 of them get to pretend they’re important. The scramble began before the announcement was even finished. Ambitious backbenchers are already practicing their ‘shocked and delighted’ faces in the mirror, preparing for a phone call that will either make their career or confirm their suspicions that they’re just here to vote yes on things.
The entire machinery of government ground to a halt so politicians could mentally reorganize their ambitions. Suddenly everyone who spent three years criticizing the previous minister’s tie color decided they’d be absolutely brilliant at that job. Email inboxes filled with thinly veiled resumes disguised as policy papers. Aides frantically googled ‘how to make my boss look ministerial.’
The new PM will arrive to find a queue of MPs outside their office, each holding a laminated list of reasons why they deserve the job nobody actually wants to do. Some will get appointed. Most will return to their constituencies and tell their constituents they were ‘considered for a very important role.’ This is British politics: a game show where everyone loses but the winners get to sit in slightly nicer chairs while everything stays exactly the same.