Labour’s manifesto is a case of ‘never mind the detail, feel the buzz’

So let me be crystal clear,” said Keir Starmer – six words that make wise voters start counting their spoons.

But it was a case of never mind the detail, feel the buzz, as hundreds of activists, MPs, peers and the odd celeb packed into a brightly lit foyer to hear a soon-to-be PM set out his manifesto.

And there it was in all its shiny, promising, glossy freshness: 23,000 words of carefully honed opacity over 131 pages, 33 carrying pictures of Starmer himself.

The cover: a huge portrait of Mr Darcy in his shirtsleeves, about to take a dip. No mention of Labour, just the word “Change” in red letters. Like the Beatles after Rubber Soul, this artist is too big to need its name on the product. Inside, snaps of Keir meeting business leaders, Keir chatting with nurses, Keir shaking hands with Volodymyr Zelensky on D-Day. Message: you’re voting not for a party, but for a man.

A roar went up as Starmer emerged from the wings, his sleeves rolled up, looking just like the cover photo. Lost a cufflink, Sir Keir? But there was nothing spontaneous here: those sleeves had been ironed after they were rolled up, forming crisp hospital corners around his forearms.

As usual, there were multiple introduction speeches, including from Iceland boss Richard Walker, until recently on the Tory candidates list, and Nathaniel Dye, the astonishingly brave science teacher stricken with terminal cancer.

Starmer strolled to the podium looking relaxed, took his time to thank the previous speakers, and started speaking from prompts rather than a script.

His growth as a performer was shown when a Corbynite climate protester started shrieking that these were “all Tory policies” and that he was letting young people down. As she was dragged out, Labour’s leader coolly lectured: “We gave up being a party of protest five years ago. We want to be a party of power.”

He managed to outdo his own previous Four Yorkshiremen bit, bragging about his family’s relative poverty by saying: “I know what it’s like to be embarrassed to bring your friends home because the carpet is threadbare and the window cracked.” The window, he added, was his fault because he put a football through it. He talks about football almost as much as he talks about his dad being a toolmaker.

There was no “rabbit out of the hat” in the surprise-free manifesto, but he made a virtue of it. “If you want politics as pantomime, I hear Clacton is nice this time of year,” he quipped of the side-battle for Little England between Farage and Sunak.

There was some intriguing political cross-dressing going on. Just before Starmer’s speech, Labour released an atmospheric, misty video of Britons starting their day as a blackbird sang the dawn chorus. Familiar? Think of Ronald Reagan’s 1984 broadcast, “It’s morning again in America.” Starmer then channelled Margaret Thatcher by borrowing her 1982 riff about how tax is not about slicing up the cake. Forward with Labour? This was Back to the Future. Luckily, his audience either didn’t notice the echoes of two leaders they used to hate, or maybe the smell of power in their nostrils was too intoxicating for them to care.

“Growth is our core business – the end and the means of national renewal,” declared Starmer. Not to be confused, of course, with the person who said not long ago: “Our focus now is on building a high-growth economy that funds world-class public services.” The latter quote was from Liz Truss, just after the collapse of her mini-Budget.

He made a big deal of repeating in a read-my-lips manner his promise not to raise income tax, national insurance or VAT. “That is a manifesto commitment.” Yes, but what about all the other taxes?

At the end, he strolled through the media questions without any of the hacks managing to wind him up or surprise him, coasting on his own momentum. Nobody pinned him on the tax questions that still hang in the air after some slippery answers in his Sky leader interview the night before.

Pat McFadden, Labour’s soporific campaign coordinator, was sent out in advance to lull the pack into letting its guard down. Asked repeatedly to rule out council tax band hikes, he soothed in a soft burr, like Dr Finlay telling an elderly Highlands patient she would just feel a teeny-tiny pinprick: “Nothing in our plans requires a change in that.” Nothing in the manifesto, he meant.

As if to prove that the fates are now on Starmer’s side, waiting-list figures have jumped for the first time in seven months, from 7.54 million to 7.57 million. Another nail in Rishi Sunak’s campaign.

Today’s venue was the bright foyer of One Angel Square, the Co-operative Group’s headquarters. It was kept under wraps until the last moment, as if Labour were already the party in government and the Tories, who revealed their Silverstone venue hours ahead of time, were in opposition. In a sense, they are.