Slowly but surely, Keir Starmer is making sensible leadership in politics appealing again

The appetite for letting grown-ups run the show has returned – and this time, an eruption of common sense could reroute the Labour Party from its death spiral

For a party that has spent years proving itself a political bear of very little brain, it’s a huge slice of luck that the choice of Labour leader is beginning to look like a no-brainer.

In April, if early membership polling is credible, Keir Starmer will inherit the small task of reviving the movement from its self-inflicted torpor.

This is not to discount his rivals, two of whom are Rebecca Long Bailey. One is Tribune Becky, who writes in that venerable leftie journal of her desire to wage “war against the political establishment”.

The other, Today Becky, has been heard on Radio 4 consenting to deploy nukes as PM if absolutely required.

Personally, I’d advise them to do a deal, as one or both did with flatmate Angela Rayner. If both Beckies run, it could get confusing. Today Becky looks the stronger candidate, since implicitly, she would prefer to become the political establishment by winning power, rather than fighting it. But that’s for them to decide, and absolutely none of our beeswax.

While Vladimir Ilyich might not approve, in this Labour leadership race, “Len” seems all the rage. While at least one Becky cleaves to Len McCluskey of Unite, Jess Phillips tweets a photo with Len Goodman.

Now, I yield to no living organism in my admiration for the former Strictly Come Dancing head judge. No one ever milked such mirth from a bespoke pronunciation of the number seven.

Whether he qualifies as “a legend”, as Phillips tweets, is too pedantic a debate for this column. The point, if there is one, which I doubt, is that she needn’t waste more energy on that strand of populism.

Everyone knows that Jess is refreshingly normal, and so adores Strictly. The brand is so on-trend that she is close to joining Cher, Madonna, Prince, Rihanna and Greta in the exalted ranks of the mononym brigade.

What no one knows is whether she’s ready for prime time. Leading a deeply traumatised Labour party demands a wide range of talents. One is a gift for communicating. No one doubts she has that.

Among the others on which the jury hasn’t heard enough evidence to judge are the abilities to think strategically, reunite a centrist parliamentary party with a more radical membership, to radiate reliability, and pick apart a rambling, mendacious prime minister with forensic precision.

Starmer has these qualities in such abundance that he is as close to “oven ready” as any leadership contender in memory.

His campaign-launching video adroitly dispels the notion that this knight (an automatic award to a former director of public prosecutions) is what Tribune Becky might dismiss as an establishment stooge.

Testimonials from erstwhile striking miners mesh with reminders of his unpaid role advising the McLibel Two and his presence at Wapping supporting the pickets. No one who sees it could honestly dismiss him as a “Blairite”, which is 98 per cent of the video’s purpose.

The other two per cent, as represented by the discarding for a starchy white shirt for a blue T-shirt, is a crack at self-humanisation. The only real doubt about Starmer concerns his anachronistic woodenness. So far as projecting his cuddly side, he has the reticence of the pre-TV-age politician.

After several ultra high profile years helming the Brexit resistance, it isn’t clear if he has a sense of humour.

It was said of Harold Wilson that he originally didn’t, but painstakingly acquired one. Starmer doesn’t have the luxury of taking many pains. This age, as the incumbencies either side of the Atlantic suggests, demands it.

You and I may seldom shriek “the rib care repair kit, matron, and not a moment to lose”, after a Trump/ Johnson bon mot. We might be likelier to cede bladder control to the geriatric slapstick of Last Of The Summer Wine. Countless millions disagree.

Of course, these days ages come and go. By 2024, after four years of Brexit-related and other horrors, the appetite for letting grown-ups run the show may have returned, and the stolidity that seems a flaw now be regarded as a strength.

But that’s a high tariff gamble. Wit, or the perception of wit, is a crucial weapon in the arsenal of the would-be Anglophone national leader. Starmer should consider hiring a comedy coach (wannabe Labour MP Eddie Izzard, perhaps?) and a left-leaning gag writer (possibly not Frankie Boyle).

With more than weeks of this battle to go, the first casualty is revealed. Even Ian Lavery’s monumental success as party chairman couldn’t propel him to the front line. He was too humbled by the massive support from colleagues and members, explained his statement, to declare himself, and stood aside to leave the left flank to a Becky.

Humility takes various forms. Another is acknowledging spectacular failure. Today Beckie, who gets it, was keen to own the antisemitism fiasco, among other lethal errors.

In a bid to distinguish herself from her namesake, however, Tribune Becky reassured her readers they “need a leader who comes from and will stay true to that movement” (the movement in question being the one created by Corbyn).

Tribune Becky, who plainly does have a sense of humour, must be the first hilarious continuity announcer since the Susie Blake character on Victoria Wood’s show.

But at this initial stage, whichever Becky runs, she’ll be going for the silver.

Whisper it for fear of tempting fate. But an eruption of common sense threatens to reroute the party from its death spiral, in the ineffably sensible shape of the one Labour politician who might just have a clear idea how to win.