In Chancellor's absence, a new titanic ego has the chance to avoid questions

Telegraph

07-07-2025

I do hope the Chancellor doesn't resign. The world can't take another podcast. Hence it was very worrying when Mel Stride asked a question about the economy and Darren Jones answered rather than the emotional Ms Reeves. The latter, one assumes, was in her rollers watching Terms of Endearment, sobbing into a litre tub of chocolate ice cream.
We've all been there – and rather there than here, listening to Darren evade Commons scrutiny.
Given there is a £6 billion hole in the budget, observed Sir Mel, do we have any fiscal rules left? The answer, in so many words? 'Liz Truss'. Meg Hillier asked the Treasury Secretary to explain the value of fiscal discipline and he replied 'Liz Truss'. John Glen urged him to make an 'impact assessment' of any tax rises: Jones said 'Liz Truss', smiled and shrugged. Harriet Baldwin suggested that the markets were concerned about the 'wellbeing' of the absent Chancellor – perhaps having a personal moment with 20 Rothmans and the EastEnders omnibus – and Jones said he was 'not entirely sure what the question was', but nevertheless, 'Liz Truss'.
At this point, Stella Creasy revealed that she was 'the MP for the constituency that the lettuce was from that lasted longer' than Liz Truss. Labour members howled with laughter. I did not. Given the corruption in London voting, there's a good chance that the lettuce voted for Stella Creasy.
Jones, a titanic ego, breezed through the session as if everything in the World of Darren is going tickety-boo – an impression subverted by the only MP who would share his front bench, Christian Wakeford.
Wakeford, with a beer belly and vanishing hair, has the air of a man whose life has fallen apart and is sleeping in a van down by the river. He doesn't move. He stares at the ceiling. A passing MP instinctively dropped a fiver in his hat.
Up popped the loyal backbenchers with scripted lines about 'financial mismanagement', telling us the Tories had 'seven different fiscal rules' at least seven times. Chris Vince, barely out of uni, suggested one reason for the 'fiscal mess' was the Tories cutting '1,200 HMRC compliance officers. And I declare an interest because one of them was my mum!'.
Jas Athwal, in his question about the 'dangerous dismantling of all our public services', neglected to declare that he was once criticised for the poor state of the flats he let to tenants. When Deirdre Costigan raised the plight of children sleeping in 'mouldy, temporary homes', the irony was missed. But the prize for toe-curling must go to Jeevun Sandher, a boy who looks and sounds like an Apprentice candidate, the kind that says 'I am the best salesman since Julius Caesar', then gets knocked out in round one after scoring zero sales.
'I'm amaaazed the party opposite brought an urgent question on fiscal rules,' he oozed, 'I mean guyyys – and it is all guyyys – come on!'
Guys?! The Tory benches included several women, plus Mel Stride. Esther McVey looked ready to thump him.
As for me, I had ceased listening and was thinking of centrist co-hosts for Rachel's inevitable, bland podcast. My best is ex-sailor Penny Mordaunt: they can call it 'Politics with Davros and the Sea Devil.' It'll blow The Rest is Blah out of the water.