Wrists trembling, Reeves sounded shrivelled as she tried to blame ‘the party opposite’…but everyone knows she has brought disaster on herself_nhy
How vulnerable this once-confident Chancellor looked. Her two slender, white wrists trembled over the despatch box and she sought to buttress her voice. Pushed lower on her larynx, pressing for more volume amid the swirling din. She shouted that the country’s economic woes were the fault of ‘the party opposite’. She must have used that phrase 20 times. ‘The party opposite…the party opposite.’
She claimed, implausibly, that her plans were working. ‘I fixed the foundations of our economy!’ It came out huskily. There was insufficient gravy in that voice. Not enough Castrol in the cogs. She sounded shrivelled. Salt.
The speech lasted 33 minutes, half the time of a real Budget. For all Labour’s groans when Tories talked of ‘an emergency Budget’, this nonetheless felt like a big event. The galleries were packed. MPs held notepads and pens – in the case of one ministerial aide, a Mont Blanc. Pert expectation everywhere.
The Commons at such times is a cock-fighting pit, a theatre, a bullring. When the lights burn brightly and the foetid throng presses in on all sides, stresses mount. Any central player’s eardrums must pulse with it all. The pressure of top politics. The torment, in this case, of having got it so hellishly wrong.
‘The party opposite…the party opposite.’ Yet the country knows she has brought disaster on herself. And on us all.
Rachel Reeves gives an update on the nation’s finances next to Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer
The Chancellor leaves 11 Downing Street to deliver her Spring Statement to Parliament
She was nervous as her moment approached. Darren Jones, Treasury Chief Secretary, offered an encouraging jest and she essayed a queasy smile. Earlier she had stood behind the Speaker’s Chair. A penumbral scene. In that instant no one was talking to her. She was surrounded by tall, suited men whose backs were turned. Her dark-set eyes flicked my way. They looked haunted.
Now she stood out front, exposed. ‘This government was elected to bring change to our country,’ she began. That earned the first of several volleys of mocking laughter from the Opposition benches. ‘I’m proud of what we have achieved.’ Laughter. ‘The Labour party is the party of work.’ Prolonged hilarity. She did her best to fight back with partisan insults. Some of these galvanised the Labour benches. But not enough.
Then she reported the slashed growth forecast. It was met by shouts of protest from the Conservatives. Those dark eyes’ lacquered lashes blinked. Angela Rayner cast a sideways glance at her, curious as to how she was bearing up.
The PM’s parliamentary aide blushed and gazed at the rafters. David Lammy clasped and unclasped his big hands. Seven minutes into the statement he yawned enormously. The Foreign Secretary seems perpetually jetlagged.
Tory MPs had not been so lively for ages. Ms Reeves talked of the measures she had taken ‘to drive growth’. A heckler: ‘Where is it?’ More damn, acidic laughter, corroding her status. Her delivery became staccato. She was rushing the speech. Wanted to get it done as fast as possible.
Loyalists did their best to save her. Young Oliver Ryan (Burnley), still suspended from Labour for ‘bringing the party into disrepute’ – if that is possible with political parties – was the most ardent of the cheerleaders. He bawled witticisms, waved his order paper, mouthed ‘wow!’ and pointed accusingly at the Conservatives. His neighbour, Jade Botterill (Lab, Ossett & Denby Dale), tittered along. Few others went along with it. Mr Ryan’s true feelings were perhaps evident from his knees, jiggling up and down like pistons through Ms Reeves’s woebegone statement.
Other vignettes on the government benches: Zubir Ahmed (Glasgow SW) easing a finger round the inside of his shirt collar; Lola McEvoy (Darlington) a portrait of frowns; little Gordon McKee (Glasgow S) in a slump, arms crossed; Nick Smith (Blaenau Gwent) leaning forward, cheek on hand; Josh Fenton-Glynn (Calder Valley) sucking his Biro; Lloyd Hatton (South Dorset) biting his cuticles; James Frith (Bury N) and Makerfield’s Josh Simons both chewing gum. Mr Simons removed his ball of Wrigley’s and stuck it on his mobile telephone. Keeping it for later in these threadbare, bankrupt days.
