Keir Starmer can’t dream – so neither can you

Mid summer, 2024 – and just a few weeks before Labour won its ‘super majority,’ Keir Starmer sat down in front of the national press for his ‘most personal interview to date’. A chance to truly meet the man tipped for power, after 14 years of Conservative rule.

And in a series of ‘open’ and ‘heartfelt’ revelations intended to inspire warmth and nostalgia: he laid bare to the electorate that actually, he thinks, feels, and experiences nothing at all.

“I don’t dream,” he said; “not now, and neither can I ever recall having had one.” Quite a confession. And unwittingly sending the public clear warnings ahead of the election through a glimpse of the dreary, dreamless state of British life to come: A perennial grey landscape of Starmerist rules, regulations. Tax and roundabouts.

It was as if a robot, briefly gaining sentience, gasped at the revelation that it knows nothing of the human experience and what it is to dream. An almost Shelley-like: “Why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest?”

A solitary tear runs down a synthetic cheek, as he recognises his shortcomings – condemned to getting on with no-one; as he quickly fuels and angers the Right, and alienates the old Labour left – all while causing gaping rifts in the Transatlantic ‘special relationship.’ And while Trump is divisive, the U.S is awash with concern about Keir’s draconian rulebook; where protest groups are banned, tweets are an arrestable offence – and the Police cannot stop crime, but they can stop activism. Two hopeless bobbies policing the Banksy mural outside the Royal Courts of Justice – the finest tribute to the Prime Minister’s reign to date.

Keir’s mechanical wiring is clear to see through the ever-evolving set of algorithms and automated responses that see him swinging wildly between policy and sentiment to match the room. His ‘Island of strangers’ – devoid of any meaning – was as far away from the programming carefully designed for his reign as politically possible. And regular system upgrades to his messaging see an onslaught of ‘smashing the gangs, smashing the boats!’ – so at odds from the design of the bespectacled human rights lawyer who took office. 

And quite often, the wording plugged into his system is entirely out of synch, “I am proud to sit alongside Rayner” as the scale of her wrongdoing became clear. And the words, phrases and references intended to cut through on a human level only make him appear like a rural traffic warden meets Mr Bean, rather than harbouring warmth and common ground.

Martin Luther King had a dream, but Keir does not – and so his early government manifesto priorities (winter fuel! assisted death!) reflected the shortcomings of a man who cannot dream. To project such a bleak vision has implications, as Keir’s ratings have plummeted to -47%; record lows. And just this week, YouGov found 82% of Britons consider the UK to be in a bad state. 

Keir’s Britain is a tired land of stunted ambition: forgotten, forbidden and unattainable dreams. A fragmented island of ever-rising tensions, and a never-ending game of repression, backlash and subsequent repercussion. 

Keir Starmer can’t dream – so neither can you.