QUENTIN LETTS: Starmer pinched collectively the guidelines of his chipolata fingers like a chef describing the proper ravioli

Birmingham‘s Rep theatre, which has seen its share of duds over the years, was the venue for a pre-Budget speech by Sir Keir Starmer. 

The Prime Minister confirmed that Wednesday’s Budget will tax the underpants off us and we were jolly fortunate to have him rather than, say, a leader who was popular, optimistic, charismatic etc.

Warming to his themes of national poverty and personal gloom, he droned on about citizens hiding when they saw ‘the postman coming down the path – will it be another bill they can’t afford?’ 

If it’s a tax statement from His Majesty’s Revenue & Customs the answer may well be ‘yes’.

With his flair for the mot juste, Sir Keir also spoke of household damp. By the end, you could almost smell the foetid decay. Starmer the airless. Starmer the stagnant.

The Prime Minister confirmed in a pre budget speech that Wednesday’s Budget will tax the underpants off us. Pictured: Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer meeting Chancellor of the Exchequer Rachel Reeves at Downing Street ahead of the Government’s first budget on Wednesday 

Much of the speech was about ‘working people’ and how he – and it was very much he, singular – would be their salvation. He spoke of ‘my project to return Britain to the service of working people’. 

Lucky Rachel Reeves. This Budget belongs to Sir Keir, not her.

The problem with placing so much emphasis on ‘working people’ was that Sir Keir and his top ministers have struggled to say who or what they mean by that phrase.

 The PM snapped that ‘the working people of this country know exactly who they are’. Yes, dear. But does the Treasury?

This mid-morning speech was delivered to an audience of 200 slightly underwhelmed civic types. From doom-laden start to warbly finale, it was a hoot. Sir Keir and his strategic aces may have been hoping for a more muscular resonance.

 Great helmsman addresses the nation, and all that. But, despite the backdrop of banners and a large government monogram, despite the expensive suit and spectacles (courtesy Lord Alli), there was no disguising the fact that as soon as this prime minister starts speaking he sounds like the most tremendous clunker.

Reaching for matey worldliness, he leaned on the lectern and said ‘let me tell you’. At other times he affected forced laughter or went whispery in a bid for sincerity. 

The gunky voice popped with priggishness, vowels muddied and half-chewed. He bit the inside of his lower lip and threw his right hand out at an angle, quite the insouciant conversationalist.

To get away with that sort of thing you need to be Dave-Allen-smooth. Sir Keir, hair sticking up at the crown and with those bulgy, indignant eyes, was more like an eagle chick awaiting its next beakful of dead shrew.

Much of the speech was about ‘working people’ and how he – and it was very much he, singular – would be their salvation. He spoke of ‘my project to return Britain to the service of working people’. Pictured: Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer giving a speech during an event in the West Midlands

In that terrible grey, nasal, life-sapping monotone he claimed that Labour’s ‘national missions’ had ‘captured the hope working people have for the future of our country’.

 Anyone who believes that may also believe his claim, in these few inept weeks, to have ‘stabilised our economy’ and to have restored ‘hope for the future’. 

When he averred to follow ‘the resolute path’ he clenched his fist, just to show what a hard dude he was.

Repeatedly, he honked that we must ‘run towards tough decisions’. Tough, tough, tough. That was the word of the day. Along with missions. 

When he claimed that he would offer the country a ‘driving purpose’ he pinched together the tips of his chipolata fingers, almost as if he was an Italian chef describing the perfect ravioli.

 After moaning for ages about the economic mess allegedly left by those Tory rotters, he said ‘but I won’t offer it as an excuse’. He just had!

The obsession with disaster was peculiar. He seemed to relish it. But then, near the end, he altered his tone to one of ‘oh well, mustn’t grumble’ and came out with every pub bore’s phrase: ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.’ 

That was when the penny dropped. This wasn’t a prime ministerial speech. It was a Peter Cook monologue.

‘Mark my words,’ continued Sir Keir.

Or as Cook’s character E.L. Wisty used to say, ‘Speaking as an extremely dull person…’