Sir Keir Starmer has been named Best Prime Minister of the modern era by the Committee on Low Expectations, a prize awarded only once every fifty years. The honour recognises the leader least likely to crash the country outright—a feat that, according to the Committee, Starmer has narrowly accomplished.
Starmer was praised for showing up, keeping things vaguely stable, and avoiding spectacular disasters. In a century that has produced career politicians, opportunists, and outright buffoons, simply existing in office without igniting chaos now counts as excellence.
Former deputy Angela Rayner was (obviously) absent from the ceremony, a silent reminder of Labour’s promises of integrity and reform, which now read more like slogans than actual policy.
Starmer’s name will now be entered in the Committee’s official register, a sparse and depressing ledger that reads less like a hall of fame and more like a post-mortem of Britain’s political ambitions. In fifty years, it will stand as proof that survival—not vision, skill, or courage—is all the country has ever expected.
