Welcome to the Rachel Revolution – where the less you say, the more they love you
Shadow chancellor Rachel Reeves wowed the Labour conference hall with a succession of weary sighs – and the more humdrum she was and the less carried away she got, the louder they clapped, writes Tom Peck
Beneath the glare of the spotlights – and in front of a 40ft-wide Union flag – out strode that girl from your year at school whose name you can never quite remember. You know the one, she went out with what’s his name, lived round the corner from whatsherface. What is she called?
Well, she’s called Rachel Reeves, actually, and she’s been keeping herself remarkably busy. Shadow chancellor of the exchequer, it turns out. “The next chancellor of the exchequer”, in fact, if you choose to believe a few thousand people whooping with untrammelled delight in a conference centre in Liverpool, and you’d be very brave not to believe them.
With her navy two-piece and her box-fresh bobcut, Reeves looked every inch the nice, genial, competent but ultimately somewhat dull person you’d expect to bump into the business centre of an airport hotel.
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