For Rishi Sunak, things can only get wetter

As soon as the door of No 10 opened and Rishi Sunak stepped outside, it started to pitter-patter. As he burbled about “the most challenging times” and “collective sacrifice”, big blobs of water made wet splodges on the shoulders of his suit. (Cue peals of laughter from Labour HQ, where they quickly booked Keir Starmer a nice dry oak-panelled room bedecked with union flags to make his response.)

For Sunak, things could only get wetter. He stood helpless at the podium on what should have been the most electrifying moment of his life looking increasingly soggy and foolish but unable to take shelter without looking even more ridiculous.

Now, if I was the sort of chap who paid £3,500 for suits from Henry Herbert, I might be a bit more careful where I stood. You could feel the damp seeping through his collar, the chill entering his soul.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Throughout the PM’s ghastly, pedestrian address, he had to compete with a protester armed with a loudspeaker playing the old Tony Blair anthem from the Tory rout in 1997, “Things Can Only Get Better”.

By the time he got to asking the British people “who do you trust?” in this “more dangerous world”, the answer for many might have been, “well, clearly not you, you daft berk”.

By the time the PM finished, turned and scuttled inside, his suit was so sheened with running water that Thames Water could have got away with a sewage discharge on it.

Pause for a moment and savour the irony. The party that wants to pass a Draconian Act of Parliament penalising free protest rights was being laid low by an Act of God – and the actions of a sole protester with a ghetto blaster.

Not since Theresa May’s conference speech of 2017 (where the writing fell off the wall and she lost her voice) has a big setpiece speech gone so badly pear-shaped.

But what can you expect from a PM who gambled the farm on stopping the boats only to see an all-time record 9,800 crossings this year so far. In his speech, he claimed to be “stopping the boats with our Rwanda partnership”. Will “stopping” as opposed to “stopped” or “will stop” bring any credibility for this self-styled Man with a Plan in the Red Wall?

And this was, in theory, the most exciting moment of Sunak’s premiership. The moment when dull Mr Spreadsheet turned into The Gambler and bet everything on the lucky seventh month.

No 10 at least managed to whip up some feverish advance speculation, which saw dozens of pointy heads who have been confidently predicting 14 November say they were actually believers in 4 July.

Just after 5pm, an aide carried the PM’s lectern (minus government crest) through the front door, confirming at last that this particular turkey was going to vote for an early Christmas.

Did none of the PM’s advisors consider the obvious possibility that rain, which was clearly forewarned on the Met Office app, might spoil their parade? Did they not consider using the new media briefing room they blew £2.6m of our money on fitting out? Even the TUC put out a tweet of sympathy.

Starmer’s team were more on the ball. Half an hour after Sunak went in to dry off, the Labour leader appeared on our tellies, neat as a pin, with union flags on either side of him and acres of reassuring oak panelling behind.

“Stop the chaos,” he kept repeating. Labour have finally dreamed up a three-word slogan to echo the brutal linguistic architecture of Get Brexit Done. “Vote for stability,” was another memorable soundbite.

Political scientists claim that most voters watch the news with the volume turned down whenever politicians are on. They form their political impressions with their eyes, not their ears. On that basis, Starmer was the clear winner in the first round of general election 2024.

As for the prime minister, they say it never rains in California and, if things work out, he’ll be free to head there in August to catch a late, dry summer.