Like everyone else, I sat at my desk on Monday morning and watched Starmer feel sorry for himself, and I didn’t really feel sorry for him, but I still felt sad about the whole thing. The mistakes he made were his own, but there will always be something painful about someone failing to live up to expectations.
Somehow, there is something poignant about being unable to pinpoint exactly what he messed up: his fault, from beginning to end, was to be entirely unsuited to the job of prime minister.
I assumed his resignation would make me feel good, but again, I have this grief building up in my lungs. The story really is over, and Starmer really will be remembered as a failure; Labour really did squander two years in power for no obvious reason, and millions of people really will keep living inadequate lives as a result.
