The posters have been replaced. The ringmaster has changed. The brass band has struck up another tune. The clowns insist this is an entirely new show.
The trouble is, once the curtains opened, the audience quickly realised they were still sitting under exactly the same Big Top of Blunders.
Keir Starmer has left the centre ring, the makeup has been hastily applied to a new face, and Andy Burnham has bounded into the spotlight promising optimism, unity and a fresh start. Yet after just a handful of days, the performance already feels remarkably familiar. The props are wobbling, the balloon animals are deflating, the contortionists are bending themselves into impossible positions, and the ringmaster has developed an extraordinary allergy to answering questions.
Perhaps “No Answer Andy” has a certain ring to it after all.
The opening act of any new circus is normally designed to reassure the audience. The new ringmaster smiles, cracks the whip, introduces the performers and convinces everyone they are in safe hands.
Burnham appears to have opted for a different strategy. Smile politely. Wave enthusiastically. Then avoid answering anything remotely awkward.
Throughout the week journalists repeatedly attempted to ask perfectly reasonable questions about policy, spending and decision making, only to discover that the new ringmaster possesses a remarkable talent for walking dodging around the question before disappearing behind another carefully rehearsed slogan.
For someone who has spent years criticising others for avoiding scrutiny, it has been quite an opening performance.
Then came perhaps the week’s most intriguing mystery. Burnham insists he played no part in removing his predecessor. Very well.
But if that is the case, many curious spectators have been left wondering how “10 North”, complete with branding, offices and polished presentation, appeared ready for business almost immediately.
Anyone who has ever tried to persuade Whitehall to replace a photocopier knows government rarely moves at the speed of a Formula One pit crew.
Yet somehow an entirely new operation appeared with astonishing efficiency.
One might call it impressive planning. Others might simply have questions. Unfortunately, questions appear to be in short supply these days.
Not content with avoiding awkward inquiries himself, Burnham’s administration also found itself accused of helping to ensure Parliament asks fewer of them. Labour’s reported agreement with the Liberal Democrats to limit Conservative Opposition Days means fewer opportunities for formal parliamentary questioning before MPs disappear for the summer recess.
For any government genuinely enthusiastic about accountability, that is an unfortunate look.
The whole episode resembled a circus magician announcing there would be no audience participation this evening because too many people kept guessing how the trick worked.
Elsewhere beneath the Big Top, the supporting acts proved every bit as entertaining.
The Foreign Office reportedly experienced internal upheaval during Ed Miliband’s opening week, hardly the smooth debut ministers might have hoped for. Backstage arguments are hardly unusual in politics, but watching performers quarrel before the audience has even settled into its seats does little to inspire confidence.
Healthcare and justice also produced uncomfortable headlines after senior Labour ministers were filmed laughing and sniggering to questions surrounding the Government’s early release scheme for offenders. Politics has always been about perception, and photographs or footage can often become stories in themselves. The week’s images were unlikely to feature prominently in Labour’s next recruitment brochure.
Meanwhile, another appointment rapidly attracted controversy after Burnham’s choice for Solicitor General became engulfed in political rows almost immediately. At times Labour’s appointments process now resembles one of those circus acts where the plate spinner keeps adding another plate despite the first dozen already wobbling alarmingly.
Energy policy also entered the ring with all the grace of an elephant attempting ballet. Burnham announced support for reducing household bills, an objective few would dispute. The immediate question, however, was a rather obvious one.
How will it be paid for?
As it turned out, answers were somewhat harder to find than announcements. By now, this is becoming something of a theme. Questions about spending. Questions about taxation. Questions about priorities. Questions about implementation.
The questions arrive. The answers do not always follow.
Even the Cabinet reshuffle provided comic relief. Reports that one minister’s responsibilities had to be adjusted almost immediately after appointment prompted inevitable headlines about organisational confusion. It was the political equivalent of introducing the knife thrower before remembering nobody had actually checked where the target was standing.
Immigration and crime remained firmly in the spotlight this week too. The Government faced criticism over legal efforts relating to the publication of migrant crime data, while fresh figures showing police officer numbers falling again inevitably reignited familiar debates about policing, transparency and public confidence.
Whatever one’s political perspective, governments generally benefit when people believe information is being shared openly rather than reluctantly.
Attempts to control the flow of uncomfortable facts rarely make curiosity disappear. They usually make it grow.
Then came Burnham’s much publicised pub tax proposal, warmly welcomed by some but immediately accompanied by the same persistent question that has followed several announcements this week. Where is the money coming from?
One can almost picture the Treasury as a circus clown’s pocket, with ministers confidently reaching inside expecting another bundle of banknotes to appear. Eventually, however, even clown pockets have bottoms.
And so the first week of Labour’s new era comes to an end. The posters have changed. The costumes have changed. The ringmaster has changed. But the tent still leaks whenever difficult questions begin to fall.
Perhaps Burnham will eventually answer them. Perhaps the funding details will emerge. Perhaps Parliament will have plenty of opportunities to scrutinise them. The audience, after all, has bought a ticket.
It is perfectly reasonable for them to expect the performers to explain how the tricks are done.
Until then, the Big Top remains open, the brass band plays on, and Britain’s political circus rolls into another week beneath the ever-familiar canvas of Clowning Street.
READ ALL ABOUT IT: Links to this week’s top Labour circus acts below:
