sketch

There was blood in the water – but Rachel Reeves swam to safety

Mel Stride tried his best to ‘shark’ the chancellor, writes Joe Murphy – but ended up throwing her an inadvertent lifeline

Tuesday 14 January 2025 18:05 GMT
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Rachel Reeves defends trip to China amid market turmoil

Imagine watching Jaws, hearing the music rev up as the camera surges through the water and waiting for the great white shark to emerge. Except that instead of a killing machine, a harmless chunk of driftwood bobs up from the depths.

It was a bit like that in the Commons as Rachel Reeves arrived to “face the music” for turmoil in the bond market. Blood was in the water … but would there be a bloodbath?

A quick recap: the chancellor flew back from China on Monday with bags under her eyes so big that EasyJet would have made her check them in. Labour MPs had been briefing the Sunday papers that her job was at risk and, unhelpfully, the PM publicly failed to guarantee her future.

Just after 1pm, Reeves, looking serious and even chastened, slipped onto the front bench.

She was flanked by two of the cabinet members being quoted in the bookies as potential successors: her deputy Darren Jones (6/10) and business secretary Jonathan Reynolds (4/1). Fellow Blairite Liz Kendall was there, as was deputy PM and chief left winger Angela Rayner.

The official purpose of Reeves’ statement was to update MPs on her visit to Beijing. Not even she could muster much swagger for the £600m of deals (over five years) she brought home, describing them with sensible moderation as “tangible benefits”.

Sharks, it is said, are attracted by the splashing of an injured fish. So it was time for a maneater to finish her off. Shadow chancellor Mel Stride climbed to his feet. Cue the music.

“This is a crisis made in Downing Street,” sploshed Stride, churning up the water.

But then he lost it completely, choosing to devote the rest of his speech to a deeply unfunny and unappreciated parody of Shakespeare.

“This whole sorry tale is nothing short of a Shakespearean tragedy, playing out before our eyes,” he began. “This is the Hamlet of our time. They promised the electorate much, while pouring the poison into their ear.”

Coming from someone regarded as one of parliament’s duller speakers, it was what you might call a high-risk gambit. But Stride carried on, oblivious to quizzical looks.

“You can feel the end, the chancellor flailing, estranged, it seems, from those closest to her, those about her falling, the drums beating ever closer,” he went on. And on. Dame Priti Patel tried to smile but looked mildly stunned.

“To go or not to go?” climaxed Stride, predictably. “That is now a question. The prime minister will be damned if he does, but he will surely be damned if he does not.”

It is possible that Mel practised this in front of the Stride family after a few glasses of port and they all fell about dutifully. Certainly, he seemed to think he had pulled a blinder. But the rendition belonged with Peter Lilley singing “I have a little list” and Michael Portillo’s “who dares wins” speech as bold ideas that sounded brilliant the night before but really, truly, should have been dumped in the morning.

After that, Reeves grew visibly in confidence. “The honourable gentleman is not serious,” she stated simply in reply, which is probably the worst insult that a self-confessed girly swot could utter. He hadn’t even asked questions.

The big issue remaining was whether a killer was among the 80 or so Labour MPs who had turned out for the statement. But none of Reeves’ critics were ready to speak out to her face, it seemed. Instead, one by one, loyalists stood up to back her or ask gentle questions.

Testing moments came from SNP bruiser Stephen Flynn, who demanded she rule out cuts. She stood firm, saying: “We know what happens when governments lose control of the public finances.”

Tory Nick Timothy asked her to rule out tax rises in coming months, to which she replied that there would be only one fiscal event a year, prompting speculation she was leaving wiggle room for a spring budget.

Some 50 minutes into the exchanges, Harlow Labour MP Chris Vince broke the tension with a good joke at Stride’s expense. “While we are quoting Shakespeare, would she agree with me there is something rotten in the state of the Conservative Party?”

Labour MPs hooted and Reeves stopped being serious for once and smiled. A big, wide smile of relief that her resolute performance had bought more time.

Meanwhile, there is an exciting update on Day 2 of Sir Keir Starmer’s breathlessly hyped plan to “mainline AI into the veins of this enterprising nation”.

Over at the science and innovation committee, they were due to be addressed by an AI-powered robot that sings to customers as it delivers shopping to their door.

“I’m very excited,” said chair Chi Onwurah. So excited that a nameplate with “STARSHIP ROBOT” had been laid in front of the musically-gifted machine, which resembled a fridge on wheels rather than C3PO.

Alas, company vice president Lisa Johnson burst the bubble by explaining: “It’s not going to sing today because the [parliamentary] wifi is not good enough.”

Starmer’s growth plan derailed yet again for lack of decent wifi. Someone, please tell the PM to switch it off and on again.

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