Dear Keir: Angela Rayner called me Clement Twatlee

In a catastrophic development, my deputy, Angela Rayner, has left to spend more time with her vape. I’m distraught, as is all the cabinet.

Despite our differences of opinion – like my belief that she should have been demoted after the Hartlepool byelection and her equally strong belief that she shouldn’t have – Ange and I made a great team. You could say we’re yin and yang. She’s charismatic, authentic, loved by the unions and the membership. I’m… the yin to all that. We complemented each other perfectly (though we didn’t often compliment each other – on more than one occasion, she referred to me as Clement Twatlee).

Still, Angela’s departure has given me the chance to refresh my cabinet and bring in exciting new faces like David Lammy, Yvette Cooper and Pat McFadden. How about Shabana Mahmood as home secretary? I for one think it’s inspiring that a Muslim woman will be in charge of raids and deportations.

Moaning minnies claim that Rayner was the last remnant of Labour’s soft left, give or take a Miliband. That my government is about to veer even further right, doubling down on migrant bashing and welfare cuts. But I’m not ideological. Corbyn trolls accuse us of being Red Tories. Figures in the party call themselves Blue Labour. I like to think we’re the best of both worlds – Blue Tories, if you will.

Anyway…

Dear Keir, I’ve worked as a chartered accountant for 25 years, but I always yearned to be a DJ. Is middle age too late to change careers?

Lysander, Birkenhead

Hi Lysander, Let me be clear: age is no deadline – it’s a launchpad. I only became a politician in my 50s, and we can all agree I’m doing amazing. Most MPs spend years plotting their path to No 10 (Streeting wrote his maiden speech as a zygote). I kind of fell into being prime minister. I’m a passive protagonist, much like Forrest Gump.

That said, I object to the characterisation of me as a meat puppet for the Labour right (I’m thinking of Pogrund and Maguire’s book Get In, which I haven’t read but is bollocks). I’m not some tool of the establishment. And I should know, given that my dad was a… well, you can Google it. In any case, good luck swapping Microsoft Excel for decks and a mixer!

Dear Keir, my marriage is OK but devoid of passion. Should I leave to take a gamble on true happiness?

Fran, Daventry

Fran, I advise you to plough on joylessly. I’m a firm believer in making do. Take the Labour membership: hundreds of thousands have left the party since I became leader. Some remain unattached, while others have rebounded with the Lib Dems or the Greens. Some even make eyes at Corbyn-Sultana. But are they happy? No, because “perfect” is the enemy of “only somewhat inadequate”.

The smart ones stick around regardless of what I do. Zack Polanski may say the right (by which I mean left) things. Is he a knight of the realm? I think not. I must admit to feeling betrayed by these Labour deserters. Yes, I literally told them to leave if they didn’t like my changes, but that was reverse psychology.

Anyway, I should go and tweet another 20 times about immigration. This is how we beat Farage: by accepting his arguments wholesale, while claiming his solutions are impractical. I believe the British public wants a reasonable level of cruelty towards the most vulnerable. Moderate malice. Sensible sadism. That’s why I kept schtum about Operation Raise the Colours. I’m not prepared to dismiss these protesters as far right. They’re just painting things, and when has a painter ever been a fascist?

Until next week, smash the boats and stop the gangs! Or vice versa.

PS My comms team came up with a new slogan for our economic agenda: “Growth that people can feel in their pockets.” Pretty good, right? We also considered “Is that growth in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see us?”