https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2026/jun/26/digested-week-another-pm-bites-dust-surprisingly-moving
Jun 28, 2026
Digested week: Another PM bites the dust and it’s surprisingly moving.
Monday
Hard to believe, but in my 12 and a half years as the Guardian’s political sketch writer, I am about to embark on my seventh prime minister. There was a time when we Britons took the piss out of the Italians for their rapid turnover of prime ministers. Now the laugh is on us.
When I first started in the lobby in 2014, there had been only four prime ministers in the previous 23 years. We’ve now churned through four in four years. The lineup of former prime ministers at the Cenotaph parade on Remembrance Day gets longer and longer. In a decade or so there will be only a handful of people who can recognise Liz Truss.
Keir Starmer’s resignation was slightly different from the others. He wasn’t being forced out as a result of a lost election or by a strong opposition. His departure had nothing to do with the Tories and was triggered by Labour winning a byelection. There was also something quite bashful about his resignation speech. Normally broadcasters and other media are given a heads-up when the prime minister is due to speak, with the lectern brought out on to Downing Street half an hour before. This time, though we all knew it was coming, Keir dashed out moments after the lectern was in place. Almost as if he wanted to get the speech over and done with, with as few people watching as possible.
Like almost every resignation speech, Keir’s was surprisingly moving. There’s something about witnessing the passing of power, the moment when the politics becomes personal, that touches me every time. Maybe it’s me that’s the softie. The one exception was Boris Johnson’s resignation speech. The one in which he accepted responsibility for nothing, blamed others for his departure and told the country we would all regret it. Oddly, we haven’t.
You can’t help wondering just how long the country will give Andy Burnham. Voters have become increasingly unforgiving if promises aren’t delivered immediately. It feels only a matter of weeks before some broadcasters start shouting: “When are you going to resign, Mr Burnham?”
…
Friday
Cancer does funny things to time. Both to the person who has it and the family of those with the illness. It feels as if I have lived every moment with Jill over the past 14 months. There have been moments when I have wished it was me who had cancer and not her. Not just out of some misplaced heroic altruism, but because it felt as if it would be easier to bear.
Living with and loving a person with cancer is to be given daily reminders of what it means to experience loss of control. It’s like being in a half world that is part of the real one yet also separate. Time bends. Some days almost slow to a standstill, when it feels as if you are experiencing every moment and not necessarily for the better. Others, usually the good ones, seem to race past as you struggle to keep hold of them. Recovery also sometimes feels glacially slow. It is seven months since Jill’s operation and five months since she finished the last round of chemo but there are still times of the day when she feels rubbish.
We have been told it may take at least a year before she is properly her old self again. But there have been some upsides. Cancer has brought us closer together. We haven’t just done the hospital stuff together – I feel as if I know every inch of the Marsden in Sutton and Fulham – but we have got to have the important conversations that other couples might not get to have because they feel they have all the time in the world, so why spoil the moment? As a family – I’m including our children here – it feels as if we have said everything that needs to be said. Whatever happens, there will be no regrets. And things are looking up. Jill is a lot stronger than she was even a couple of months ago, and bizarrely you do even get used to the two-month cycle of PET scans, MRIs and blood tests. As the oncologist recently said to us: “You must always bank the wins when they come along.” Because one day you may lose.
So, with that in mind, we are planning to enjoy our summer. Jill recently realised she hadn’t spent a night away from home – apart from the time she was in hospital – for over a year. This will change. We are going to America to see our daughter. Jill is coming to Buxton for the night towards the end of July where I am doing an event in the opera house as part of the festival. We are planning on visiting friends. Life is restarting.
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