Iyou are traditional that politicians’ relatability is measured by knowing the price of a pint of milk. Which, I’m guessing, will be around £9.80 in a couple of weeks’ time. Margaret Thatcher was very proud of being able to answer this question, an aptitude somewhat undermined by her nicking it all later.
The problem with having recent governments packed with millionaires (at one point it was two-thirds of the cabinet) is that, even if they could answer this question with certainty, it wouldn’t detract from the fact they have zero idea what budgeting and financial constraints are like for most of the public.
The chancellor, Rishi Sunak, as a prime example, married into an absurd amount of money; think of him as a sort of Austen heroine in a Supreme hoodie. His wife of him, Akshata Murthy, the daughter of a billionaire, is said to be richer than the Queen. On Wednesday morning Sunak was asked awkward questions as to whether his family was benefiting from connections to Russian businesses, hours after saying connections to Russian businesses were bad. Which reminded me of when Katie Hopkins said naming kids after places was gross, before being reminded that her daughter was called India.
Earlier, the chancellor had been mercilessly mocked for pretending that I owned a Kia Rio, and filling it up at a Sainsbury’s petrol station to show off the fact he had cut 5p off a liter of fuel to help “hard-pressed” motorists, who, forgive me, do not currently seem the most in need. Perhaps even more mortifying, poor Rishi (I use the word poor metaphorically) managed to bungle his payment by – swear down – tapping his contactless card to a barcode scanner. This has to be the greatest failure of a millionaire politician struggling to deal with the rudimentary tasks of everyday living since Jeremy Hunt pulled an emergency stop cord on a train thinking that it flushed the loo.
All of this brings us to Sunak’s spring statement. The papers are unanimous in their brutal criticism of a mini-budget that crushes the poorest people in society (no!? This government?! Get outta here!). With energy bills also set to rise by 54% next month, I doubt I will be the only one donning every item of clothing I own, a la Joey from Friends piling on Chandler’s entire wardrobe.
The interesting thing is whether this will be the moment Brand Rishi falters. Surely, his slick social media presence will be unable to cut it in the face of 69% of respondents to a YouGov poll saying he had not done enough. For the past 18 months, Sunak has come to prominence aided by interns who learned how to use the layering tool in Photoshop, and created graphics that look like announcements that their boss is playing a residence at the Ministry of Sound. The entire Treasury has developed a startup air, which will never not be a super cringe move for any government department (Steve Hilton is right there as a cautionary tale, guys).
I’m not sure that, when the nickname “Dish Rishi” was coined (off the back of the second*-youngest chancellor in a century being moderately good-looking), many of us could have foreseen him, maskless, indoors, holding an actual dish, pretending to work in a Wagamama under his “ eat out to help out” scheme – a name surely cooked up during a focus group with Benny Hill fans. (*The youngest chancellor in a century was George Osborne, which is difficult to comprehend because, even at the age of 38, he often had the vibe of the undead.)
Especially strange was when Sunak put an “eat out to help out” sticker in the window of No 11, as though his own home were participating in the scheme; although I suppose it is pretty much cocktail hour 24/7 next door, so perhaps he got confused.
In the end, the scheme increased footfall by 5%but also increased Covid infections by up to 17%, and millions were lost to fraud. So who’s to say really whether it was a good idea?
Sunak was praised for the billions spent on Covid mitigation measures, which would have been fine if he hadn’t shafted freelancers and gig economy workers, and messed about with the furlough deadline to the point where thousands of people lost their jobs, only for him to reverse course literally five hours before it hit.
All the while, the photo ops keep coming. Here is Sunak standing in front of a bank of screens, which I imagine he thinks makes him look purposeful and in charge, but actually looks like a still from Squid Game.
Then there is Suave Sunak, as witnessed here. Which is, unfortunately for him, giving off strong Harry Maguire chatting up those girls at the World Cup energy. To wit:
On the subject of football, Sunak likes to think of himself as a chilled-out kind of guy, so it made sense when he and Boris Johnson organized the below pic session around a foosball table (with strategically placed hand sanitiser).
Johnson, of course, is a sporty kind of man, well known for jogging in dress shoes; taking out children on the rugby pitch; and thinking it fine to boo the England football team. The only thing I really know about Sunak’s sporting life is that he supports Southampton FC, and that one time he took part in some kind of boxing event – “delivering a punchy message” about exercise – and was photographed smiling while about to be kicked in the chest. His love of sporting apparel, however, extends beyond tracksuit bottoms and hoodies, which once led to the BBC’s great Naga Munchetty deeming his favorite pool sliders “awful”.
I’m all for jogging bottoms and sliders – mostly because I haven’t been outside in two and a half years – and I am actually in favor of politicians dressing more casually in general, but, as with Emmanuel Macron last week, the contrived attempt at edgeness is palpable. And the plastic charm bracelet worn by Sunak when delivering last October’s budget was a step too far. Part Alex Garland writing The Beach, part children’s after-school activity, it was the most awkward piece of jewelery since Theresa May wore a bangle of the famously communist Frida Kahlo.
None of this cool, down-to-earth Rishi shtick really washes when you’re a man in a £795 jacket plunging 1.3 million people into poverty, and families are declining potatoes from food banks because they can’t afford the energy to cook them. when 2.5 million food parcels a year are given out in the UKSunak’s entire spring statement could be summed up thus: let them eat caviar.
www.theguardian.com
George is Digismak’s reported cum editor with 13 years of experience in Journalism