As I watched the Budget speech yesterday, I found myself wondering who Chancellor John Healey reminded me of.
It was something in his apologetic, slightly mournful manner; the hesitant, almost cautious delivery; the constant air of anxious hand-wringing.
Perhaps it was the faint downward tilt of his nose, the angle of his ears or that unmistakably plaintive expression.
Then, just as he began droning on about the new sports centre for Trent, it came to me: Dobby, the house-elf from Harry Potter.
Poor, sweet Dobby. Enslaved by the wicked Malfoy family, he was treated appallingly and forced to punish himself brutally whenever he disobeyed their commands.
Dobby was not truly free until Harry Potter tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving him one of his socks, breaking the curse. At last, he could choose how to live — and chose to serve his hero, Andy — sorry, Harry.
Like Dobby, Healey is difficult to dislike. Whatever your view of his politics, he plainly seems a thoroughly decent man. That is simply his nature. He may not be a natural orator, but he is clearly intelligent and reflective. And we already know he has principles: he resigned from Keir Starmer’s government over defence spending.
So I almost felt sorry for him when he finally sat down, looking visibly relieved. His reward for delivering yet another depressing damp squib of a Budget was a reassuring pat on the back from the Prime Minister.
Kemi, flanked by the newly appointed Shadow Chancellor Andrew Griffith and trusted deputy Alex Burghart, was ready for battle. This was not going to be pleasant.
Kemi, flanked by the newly appointed Shadow Chancellor Andrew Griffith and trusted deputy Alex Burghart, was ready to go on the offensive
Like Dobby, Healey is difficult to dislike. Whatever your view of his politics, he plainly seems a thoroughly decent man
With each successive line, she did more than attack government policy. She built a vast bonfire of ridicule and struck the match.
‘The Prime Minister came in promising to reverse 40 years of neoliberalism — and instead we got 4p off gherkins,’ she declared with relish.
Burnham looked utterly crestfallen, like a small boy whose train set had just been taken away.
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With formidable efficiency, Badenoch exposed the weaknesses in the Chancellor’s plans. Britain was ‘over-spent, over-borrowed, over-taxed’; there could be ‘no social security without national security’; it was ‘a Budget for getting by not getting on’; ‘those on benefits are getting an increase, those going out to work are not’; and, she quipped triumphantly, ‘just because it’s called universal credit doesn’t mean that everyone in the universe should be on it.’
She then led her side in a rousing refrain: ‘Inflation UP, Government spending UP, debt interest UP, mortgage rates UP, benefit claims UP, unemployment UP, welfare spending UP.’
Meanwhile, ‘UP’ in the Speaker’s Chair, Nusrat Ghani appeared to be enjoying herself almost indecently as she rebuked the furious Government benches. ‘Miss Emily Darlington, normally so polite,’ she told the Milton Keynes MP, before adding, with more disappointment than anger: ‘Not a great day.’
‘People in the country listening to his Budget will be thinking, “is that it?”‘ Badenoch concluded. ‘This Budget does not come close to meeting the moment.’
That, in truth, is the central point. She is the politician of the moment. Time and again, Badenoch delivers. Against the odds, despite her critics and in the face of barely concealed racism — as well as sexism — she keeps turning up. She does not merely meet the moment; she embodies it.
While Labour tinkers around the edges, constrained by party dogma and bogged down in an approach that appears both parochial and patronising, Badenoch takes every opportunity to present herself as a politician focused on the bigger picture.
Set-piece moments like this allow her to do more than expose the Government’s weaknesses. They give her a platform to set out her own vision for the country.
Attack alone is not enough. It is not sufficient simply to jeer, mock and highlight flaws.
She must demonstrate that she and her party offer a credible alternative vision for government — and that they possess the ability to deliver it.
It is this hunger, self-belief and uncompromising appetite for political combat, combined with a new team of loyal allies, that has given her such an unmistakable air of authority. It also enables her to land her blows with striking efficiency.
Despite their upbeat new leadership and the Prime Minister’s matey style, Labour’s overall strategy is as bleak as it is misguided.
They continue to invoke ‘austerity’, yet it is their policies that have left so many hard-working taxpayers struggling to make ends meet.
It is a hair-shirted vision of the future that offers no real inspiration — and Badenoch is its antidote.
