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Starmer has lost his grip, his premiership is now in the end-phase but he's the only one that cannot see it. Politically inept to the end. Right, so Keir Starmer is standing in the middle of his own polling collapse pretending the ground hasn’t already slipped, talking about loyalty while the Parliamentary Labour Party trades leadership chatter like it’s office gossip. The numbers are dire. The favourability is stuck in the basement. More than half the country thinks he should resign. And yet Starmer still acts like the problem is disobedience rather than the charts in front of him. You can hear the strain in every denial. You can feel No.10 tightening every time another minister tries to distance themselves. The budget is coming. The local elections are coming. The party can see what those two collisions will do. The public, regardless of their personal politics all have a reason to dislike Starmer for one reason or another and has already walked away. The PLP is only now admitting they might have to follow, but when so many of them are little more than Starmer clones themselves, that not too much of a surprise. It isn’t drama. It’s the end-phase. Starmer is finished, not if, but when but for Labour it makes no difference, because there is no saviour coming to rescue them no matter when he goes. Right, so the Prime Minister is standing in the ruins of his own authority, pretending the ground underneath him hasn’t already shifted, pretending the public haven’t already turned, pretending the party hasn’t already started gaming out the timetable of his exit. The coup chatter is not gossip any more. It is the sound of a premiership losing structural integrity. It is the noise a political machine makes when the person at the centre stops holding its weight. You can hear it in the way journalists have been chuntering about it. You can hear it in the tone of the interviews. You can hear it in the tight language coming out of No.10. He talks about loyalty. He talks about discipline. He talks about fighting anyone who challenges him. He talks like a man who still thinks the title protects him. It doesn’t. Titles don’t stop a collapse. Numbers do, and his numbers are gone. The polling has been telling the story for months. The approval charts have flattened into a single downward line. The approval charts are buried. The unfavourable numbers keep rising. His net rating has crashed past the point where leaders normally start packing up. Most of the country now thinks he should step down. The graph tells the story before anyone else opens their mouth.
By Damien WilleyStarmer has lost his grip, his premiership is now in the end-phase but he's the only one that cannot see it. Politically inept to the end. Right, so Keir Starmer is standing in the middle of his own polling collapse pretending the ground hasn’t already slipped, talking about loyalty while the Parliamentary Labour Party trades leadership chatter like it’s office gossip. The numbers are dire. The favourability is stuck in the basement. More than half the country thinks he should resign. And yet Starmer still acts like the problem is disobedience rather than the charts in front of him. You can hear the strain in every denial. You can feel No.10 tightening every time another minister tries to distance themselves. The budget is coming. The local elections are coming. The party can see what those two collisions will do. The public, regardless of their personal politics all have a reason to dislike Starmer for one reason or another and has already walked away. The PLP is only now admitting they might have to follow, but when so many of them are little more than Starmer clones themselves, that not too much of a surprise. It isn’t drama. It’s the end-phase. Starmer is finished, not if, but when but for Labour it makes no difference, because there is no saviour coming to rescue them no matter when he goes. Right, so the Prime Minister is standing in the ruins of his own authority, pretending the ground underneath him hasn’t already shifted, pretending the public haven’t already turned, pretending the party hasn’t already started gaming out the timetable of his exit. The coup chatter is not gossip any more. It is the sound of a premiership losing structural integrity. It is the noise a political machine makes when the person at the centre stops holding its weight. You can hear it in the way journalists have been chuntering about it. You can hear it in the tone of the interviews. You can hear it in the tight language coming out of No.10. He talks about loyalty. He talks about discipline. He talks about fighting anyone who challenges him. He talks like a man who still thinks the title protects him. It doesn’t. Titles don’t stop a collapse. Numbers do, and his numbers are gone. The polling has been telling the story for months. The approval charts have flattened into a single downward line. The approval charts are buried. The unfavourable numbers keep rising. His net rating has crashed past the point where leaders normally start packing up. Most of the country now thinks he should step down. The graph tells the story before anyone else opens their mouth.