Dear Keir: grown-up advice from everyone's favourite centrist

Dear Keir*

Hullo, and welcome back to the column that asks: WWSKRSD (What Would Sir Keir Rodney Starmer Do)?

This week I’ve been focusing on artificial intelligence, which I’m convinced is the answer to all Britain’s problems.

If you’re wondering how AI works, it’s basically Clippy, the goggle-eyed assistant of Microsoft Office fame. Given its ability to make things look like Studio Ghibli, I see no reason why it shouldn’t be in charge of HMRC, the NHS and Trident.

The luddites of the left claim we need to raise taxes on the wealthy and use that money to fix our public services. Turns out, we can sort everything with robots. Which is a relief, because raising taxes would seriously cheese off my donors.

Anyway, time to root around in this week’s mailbag (or Starmer Sack).

Dear Keir, your outfits are slaying lately. You ate and left no crumbs during that hospital visit in Rossendale. How can I serve such fierce prime ministerial lewks?

Tash, Sevenoaks

Thanks, Tash, for your compliments (I got one of my younger aides to translate). I never set out to become a fashion icon. It just happened.

I suppose I do have a natural sort of stylishness, and it helps that most of my clothes are bought for me. Today’s fit is a navy blue suit from Charles Tyrwhitt with black Oxford shoes and maroon tie. It’s giving bank manager realness, and I’m reliably informed it’s a whole vibe.

There’s also my two-tubs-a-day Brylcreem habit. This allows me to maintain the grey, corrugated sculpture on top of my head. It’s a style that says: “These hairs won’t budge, and neither will I when it comes to fiscal responsibility.”

For too long, Britain suffered under the anarchic barnet of Boris Johnson. If I achieve one thing in office, it will be to turn the page on his era of capillary misrule.

Dear Keir, my crush has finally agreed to go out on a date with me. How can I show her a romantic evening?

Jonathan, Diss

In my experience, women hate surprises, so you should enter protracted negotiations before reaching a bilateral agreement on the night’s itinerary. For example, you might agree to start at your local pub. There you can compare CVs while enjoying a responsible number of alcoholic beverages (pint for the man, G&T for the lady). If you find yourselves hitting it off, proceed to a restaurant. My favourite is an Italian place in Camden called Pizza Express – very authentic.

There’s always a chance that things go so well that you end up back at hers. How to ensure your night of passion is tickety-boo? With lovers, as with the electorate, the key is managing expectations. Ideally, you want to underpromise and overdeliver. Before getting stuck in, tell your partner something along these lines: “I am delighted that you wish to join me for a round of intercourse.

“However, I’m not going to promise an all-night marathon of rumpy and/or pumpy. That would be unrealistic in the current climate. What I will say is that you can expect a moderately enjoyable exchange followed by a warm handshake.”

Dear Keir, my boss is totally toxic. How can I deal with his bullying?

Gary, Morpeth

Hi, Gary, thanks for the question. As First Lord of the Treasury, I don’t have a boss per se, but I am under the thumb of an abusive individual. There’s this bloke who acts like a mafia don. He calls me Snoozy Keir (or Keith, or Kevin) and has been known to make lewd remarks about the Lady Victoria. Still, I take his bullying with good grace. And I’ll tell you for why.

My dad – a toolmaker by trade, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned – taught me that you should always stand up to bullies. However, there are exceptions to this rule. What if the bully could cripple your economy? What if you’re wholly dependent on the bully’s military and intelligence support? And what if you had recently told the European Union to sling its hook?

For these reasons, I recommend appeasement. The correct course of action is bootlicking, belly-showing and more sucking up than a Dyson. If all else fails, try straightforward bribery. Why not – I’m pulling these examples out of thin air – offer your boss a second state visit, or push for the Open to take place at his Scottish golf course? If he demands that you attend your next meeting in a union jack gimp suit, you'd better hope he’s joking.

And that’s the column! Arguably, I should have spent this time on the Runcorn and Helsby byelection, but hey-ho. Until next week, stay practical, stay steadfast, stay Keir.

Keir xxx

*As told to Lucien Young