30 JUNE 2025 | OPINION
The Prime Minister acts like he’s in charge. Parliament delivers its lines. But no-one believes the script anymore. From rebellion to silence, Gaza to Brize Norton, Reform to Rayner — June revealed a nation led by theatre, not leadership. And behind the curtain? No plan, no plot, just political cosplay while the lights flicker.
There’s a particular kind of British decline that doesn’t come with any fanfare. No riots. No dramatic collapse. Just the slow, audible creak of institutions performing old rituals while the real world redraws itself beyond the chamber walls. Britain isn’t falling — it’s fading.
That was June. A month in which Keir Starmer’s Labour government revealed it has numbers, but no authority. A majority — with no presence.
The warning signs had been flashing for some time, but like a check engine light, they were ignored. Then came the welfare rebellion. Over 130 Labour MPs broke ranks to oppose Starmer’s plan to tighten disability benefits. The result? Not just an embarrassing U-turn — this was something more profound. This was a stripping of authority, followed by an astonishing attempt to pretend it never happened. No acknowledgment. Just a blank-faced denial at the despatch box, as if reality were a talking point to be spun.
This wasn’t just a policy failure. It was the unmasking of Starmerism: disciplined image, soft spine. The Government is now in full defensive mode — not leading, but spinning. Pretending. Performing.
Inside the Cabinet, the fractures widened. Rachel Reeves, once the symbol of fiscal credibility, is now a spent force. Her cautious optimism and spreadsheet politics have expired. The white lies were found out. Her days are numbered.
Meanwhile, Angela Rayner is building. Private dinners. Union rallies. Leaked memos with all the subtlety you’d expect from the Deputy Prime Minister. She speaks the language of urgency. And she’s filling the vacuum. The leadership question isn’t open — yet. But it’s now firmly on the table.
But June’s story wasn’t just internal. It was global — and Britain’s role in that story has shrunk to almost nothing.
Start with Israel and Gaza. The conflict has intensified. Civilian casualties are mounting. Netanyahu is emboldened. And where is the UK? Out of the room. Irrelevant. Starmer offers platitudes. The Foreign Office issues cautious lines. But in Tel Aviv, London is ignored — still tainted by the stench of anti-Semitism, muddled by inconsistent positions, and increasingly seen as diplomatically unserious by both sides of the conflict. A washed-up moral authority still pretending it matters.
In Washington, things aren’t any better. The Trump camp has already made it clear: Starmer isn’t trusted. Privately, they call him a cipher — a man who says the right things in public and reverses in private. The UK is no longer an ally. It’s a customer with delusions of grandeur.
Iran continues its shadow war across Europe. Intelligence reports suggest Tehran may be actively fuelling migration flows to destabilise the West. A serious accusation. A strategic threat. And yet Britain has no plan. No message. No clarity. Just another thin reference to “values” — hollow words from a government that no longer knows what it stands for.
India and Pakistan’s long-simmering tensions over Kashmir are heating up again. Once, Britain might have been a broker. Today? We’re a bystander. Absent. Unconsulted.
Ukraine? The war continues. Russia holds ground. Kyiv grows anxious. The UK’s military contributions remain, but diplomatic influence has waned. Starmer speaks at summits, but nobody calls. Nobody checks in. London is not where decisions are made — only where statements are issued.
At home, the picture is just as bleak.
Palestine Action staged another protest at RAF Brize Norton. Direct action over British military logistics. The response from the Government? Nothing. Silence. Ministers floated the idea of proscribing them as terrorists — a performative deflection — but took no action. It’s a microcosm of the nation: all words, no follow-through.
Reform UK, meanwhile, climbs. Not through substance — but pure emotional velocity. Their new chairman, Dr David Bull, who blends talk-show theatrics with political detachment, is now the public face of outrage. Zia Yusuf theatrically resigned, only to return. Sarah Pochin called to ban the burqa. It’s messy. It’s chaotic. And it’s working. Because in a country this disillusioned, emotion beats structure.
And yet Reform faces the same test: rage must eventually be focused. Because if you can’t govern your own party, you won’t govern the country. Britain’s appetite for outrage is real. But its tolerance for chaos is running out.
Culturally, two earthquakes passed like tremors.
The Assisted Suicide Bill passed on to the Lords — a moment that once would have triggered a wall-to-wall debate, soul-searching speeches, and moral reckoning. Now? It passed with barely a murmur. Abortion laws were quietly liberalised again. Another landmark — met with shrugs. We are reshaping the moral architecture of the country — and nobody wants to say it out loud.
Meanwhile, Britain surrenders more and more of its global responsibility in silence. The Chagos Islands deal — a historic handover — was signed, sealed and buried beneath sports headlines. Lord Hermer, the Attorney General, warned Ministers that further military action overseas may be unlawful under international norms. Parliament shrugged.
The Channel saw another month of record crossings. This time, Ministers hinted that Russia and Iran may be fuelling them — weaponising migration. If that’s true, it’s a national security emergency. But the response? Slogans. Photo ops. The illusion of motion, masking a total lack of direction.
This is what June was: performance without power.
Government briefings instead of policy. Frameworks instead of action. A Parliament that meets — but doesn’t matter.
Britain is now governed like a long-running stage play: familiar lines, familiar sets, but no one is buying tickets.
And the public sees it. They feel the drift. Prices are up. Wages are flat. Jobs are uncertain. The rich are leaving. The poor are trapped. And still, the Prime Minister insists things are improving. It’s surreal. It’s delusional.
We are led by a cast who don’t realise the play has changed. They speak their lines with confidence, unaware that the audience left at intermission. The world has moved on. And Britain? Britain has become a cautionary tale with a decent costume budget.
Waiting for Starmer is no longer a political situation. It’s a national mood — one of unease, inertia and the slow, steady dread that no one is steering the ship.
And as we wait, the country drifts — leaderless, visionless, performing.
And behind it? No plot. No plan.
Just the echo of power once held — and a nation running on stage make-up and memory.
This article will be continued in a series on Wolves.
Good conspectus. On the button. Expertly written.