Hinges of Corbyn coffin creaked and Starmer turned a darker pink

In what felt like the 50,000th debate of the campaign, the British once again found themselves in the spin room. The people in this poorly ventilated part of a corridor in Nottingham Trent University presumably believe that they were in an episode of the West Wing, when in fact they were in a sort of half sauna, half mausoleum.

One person was pleased to be there, however: we heard from the university’s vice chancellor; the only person on the planet who believed that Rishi Sunak had got the timing right. “This is a perfect time of year for us; just after exams, just before graduation ceremonies. In that sense, the Prime Minister timed it very well.” Yes, in that one, very narrow sense only.

To the business of the evening: the two candidates to be prime minister found themselves on adjacent podiums inside a giant Tetris-themed set. In front of them, looking distinctly unimpressed, were the general public and presenter Mishal Husain, who presided over the sweltering set with commendable froideur. The first question came from Sue, who was “dismayed about integrity and honesty in politics”.

Sir Keir missed no time in assuming his favourite spot atop the moral high ground. “Over the last 14 years, politics has become too much about self-entitlement,” he carped. Oh yes, because New Labour was a hotbed of moral rectitude. Everyone associates the Blair government with absolute selflessness, don’t they?

This triggered an exceptionally dull back-and-forth about the gambling scandals now affecting both parties – a sort of world’s greyest Punch and Judy – occasionally punctuated by shouts from a gaggle of protesters outside. Presumably whoops of joy from people realising they weren’t stuck inside having to listen to this.

Starmer fared best when highlighting the deficiencies of his opponents – and won plenty of applause for it. But there was a telling moment where Rishi Sunak first seemed to win over the audience. “You want to be in charge,” he said, “but you’ve got nothing to say to people about what you’d do about it. This election is about the future.”

Rishi’s demeanour was that of a slightly malevolent imp; dancing in, throwing around dire warnings while Starmer got redder and redder. The word surrender was used a lot; “do not surrender your family finances” to the Labour Party, he’d say, “don’t surrender your borders”, etc. And it sort of worked; his job tonight was to try to plant the seed of doubt, to persuade wavering voters that his opponent didn’t have all the answers. On the basis of this evening, he barely had one.

Next, a question from Mary, who worked two jobs and believed too many people were on out-of-work benefits. Sir Keir informed her that his dad was a toolmaker and had worked in a factory; which even if one of her two jobs was on the moon, she probably already knew about.

Eventually we came to the migrant crisis. Sunak channelled Chief Brody in Jaws: “If Labour win, the people smugglers are going to need a bigger boat.” He tried to pin down Starmer on what he’d do about those already in Britain. Starmer promised to ‘process’ them – which sounds an awful lot like rubber-stamping everyone and letting them stay. “What will you do with them?,” tried Rishi again. Sir Keir spluttered like a malfunctioning coffee machine and once again promised to “process them”.

Then what, asked the PM, for what seemed like the 300th time. How would the Labour leader intend to agree a return-deal with the Taliban and the Mullahs of Iran, he asked? Sir Keir reminded the audience of his under-explored and barely-publicised stint as Director of Public Prosecutions.

Starmer condemned Sunak for telling his party to “unite behind Liz Truss”. Out came the creaking hinges of the Corbyn coffin. Hang on a minute, interrupted Mishal Husain “you know what it’s like to fall in behind a leader of your party”. This enlisted a genuinely unforced cackle from the Prime Minister and loud applause from the audience. Sir Keir went pink and blustered again.

The problem with climbing all the way up to the moral high ground is that when you fall, it’s quite a long way down.