Red Ed, arriving at PMQs to cheers of hope rather than expectation on his side, was nervous as he sat down, pulling up his socks, blowing his nose, glugging water. The circles around his panda eyes were as black as the dark side of the Moon, no doubt a result of practising in the mirror all night long. Red Ed had become Dread Ed.
He looked, despite the eyes, very young, that flick of white in the bogbrush hair serving only to accentuate this. The good news for him was that expectations were not so much low as below ground. The bad news was that he was flanked by the deadly duo of Tweedledull and Tweedleduller that is Harriet Harman and Wee Dougie Alexander. Could Ed be Tweedle-even-duller?
Opposite, Dave danced round, gleeful as he took a planted question on Ed’s election. “Will you join me,” asked a Tory, “in congratulating opposition members in their choice of leader even though he is not on the front bench and he didn’t win?”
How Dave chortled. How the Tories giggled. Ed forced his dough-filled cheeks to lift into a smile. I’ll bet brother David, viewing from home, that knife sticking out of his back still troubling him, cheered. Actually Mili-D may not have been watching, preferring the Chilean miners drama to this minor one.
Ed arose and, once vertical, the nerves vanished. He stood, utterly still, hands laid flat on the despatch box. The panda eyes closed and, for a moment, I thought he might pass out. He has the longest blink in politics, unnerving for all watching. He seemed to be in slow motion, lugubrious, his words strolling round his mouth twice before emerging, clad in little pillowy duffle coats.
He asked, quietly, about the child benefit cuts. How many families where one parent stayed at home would be affected? Dave danced. “ANSWER!” cried Labour backbenchers. Dave said that it was wrong for the poor to subsidise the rich. Didn’t Ed agree?
The panda arose. “I may be new to this game but I think I ask the questions and you should answer them.” Labour MPs cheered, as much in relief that Ed had not fallen over yet. Ed ploughed on quietly.
Why should a family on £45,000 with one person at home lose out when a family on £80,000 with both partners working would not? “It doesn’t strike me as fair. Does it strike you as fair?” he asked the Prime Minister who, promptly, began to do the soft-shoe shuffle.
“I’m afraid it’s nought out of two for straight answers,” said Ed gravely, a teenager ticking off his elders. He quoted Dave’s words from the days when he had supported keeping child benefit for all. “I agree with the Prime Minister,” noted Ed. “Why don’t you?”
The PM wouldn’t say. Instead he read out a quote supporting his policy. Who was it? Dave trilled: “That was Alan Milburn.” Labour MPs looked blank. Alan Who? Poor Alan, gone but so forgotten.
Ed stayed focused, teasing the PM about how the child benefit announcement was made. “I bet you wish that the BBC blackout had gone ahead,” he said. “It was such a shambles, your conference.”
This got a belly laugh from the Labour benches, relief spreading over them like jam on a cream tea scone. Dave became unusually shrill, accusing Ed of being transparently political. “It is just short-term tactics,” cried Dave. “It’s not Red, it’s Brown.”
No, Dave, it’s awful that joke, worthy of Gordo himself. Dave isn’t used to losing PMQs but yesterday, much to everyone’s surprise, he did just that. Ed may not be Ed the Shred but he had gained some credibility (Ed the Cred?) Dave may have to start practising in the mirror.
