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If only there had been some kind of clue. The tiniest of hints that Peter Mandelson might not have been a suitable candidate to act as the UK ambassador in Washington.
Like being forced to resign from the cabinet over a failure to disclose a loan from Geoffrey Robinson. Like being forced to resign from the cabinet a second time over allegations of trying to procure a passport for the Hinduja brothers. Like his financial arrangements with the Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska. Like his friendship with the convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.
But no. Keir Starmer and the civil service vetting committee apparently looked at all this and thought: “You know what? That’s just what we need. We can’t think of anyone better to be our US ambassador.” The very faults that might have disqualified other candidates became a huge positive for Mandy. What was needed when dealing with Donald Trump was someone utterly shameless in his sycophancy. A man with a long history for going weak at the knees in the presence of extreme wealth.
It isn’t just Mandelson’s reputation that is in tatters. Mandy is as Mandy does, and the moral emptiness of his dark heart has long been a matter of record. It’s also Starmer’s judgment that has come under scrutiny and been found wanting.
A diplomatic post that should have gone to someone of the very highest standards in public life instead went to the man with none. A race to the bottom in a desperate search for an expert Trump wrangler. An ambassador who ended up serving the interests of the US rather than his own country.
As so often, it was left to a junior minister to be the fall guy. After Starmer had repeatedly insisted he had full confidence in Mandelson and the vetting procedure at Wednesday’s prime minister’s questions, it was inevitable that, after the publication of further emails between his lordship and Epstein, the opposition would use an urgent question to tease out more information and increase the government’s embarrassment. And sure enough, the shadow junior minister Neil O’Brien duly obliged.
The urgent question was directed at the foreign secretary. But, in a show of the very highest level of bravery, there was no sign of Yvette Cooper for her first outing at the dispatch box in her new job. Such a shining example to her team. Always good to see a minister leading from the front.
So, just as it had been the luckless Mike Tapp, Labour’s very own Alan B’Stard, who had been sent out on his first morning media round as a junior minister to defend the indefensible, it was the hapless Stephen Doughty who had been handed the short straw.
Departmental transport questions seemed to have gone on an age before the UQ. It soon became apparent why. The government had finally seen what everyone else had seen days ago and bowed to the inevitable. A rather anxious looking Doughty scurried to the front bench to tell MPs the prime minister had decided to remove Mandelson from office with immediate effect in the light of the additional information that his lordship had written to Epstein saying he believed him to have been wrongly convicted of multiple sex offences. Would that do? Could everyone just go home now? Please.
Er … no. O’Brien seemed momentarily annoyed to find that some of his thunder had been stolen. He had been expecting Doughty to continue the government’s abject defence of Mandy and had wanted to intensify the calls for his resignation. But he soon got over it as he realised he was still staring at an open goal.
Let’s think this one through, he said. Was it the government’s position that it was perfectly OK for Mandelson to stay at Epstein’s apartment while he was in prison as long as he thought his friend was guilty? Because all that had changed was that Mandy had actually thought he was innocent. And could the minister please clarify what Keir Starmer had actually known and when he had known it. Whichever way you looked at it, this was a huge error of judgment.
There was, of course, a massive dose of double standards in many of the exchanges. Because many of the same Labour and Tory voices that were rushing to condemn Mandelson for his friendship with Epstein were choosing to ignore the fact that The Donald had also been a great mucker of the convicted child sex offender. But Donald was an honourable man. A great president. The state visit couldn’t come soon enough.
It was all as clear as mud. Poor Doughty became so harassed and confused that he could barely get his own story straight. He couldn’t even bring himself to say that Mandy had been sacked, leading some to wonder if the ambassador had resigned.
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Nor could Doughty say whether the vetting process had been rigorous. Whether Mandelson had volunteered the information that there were hundreds of incriminating emails waiting to cascade into the public domain. So you didn’t give a thought about the victims and were happy to stand by your billionaire old mucker? That’s all tickety boo. Just the sort of qualities we are looking for in our next ambassador. That’s a man who can get on with the president.
Two Labour MPs, Sarah Coombes and Perran Moon, tried to come to Doughty’s assistance. The government had acted decisively by sacking Mandy, they insisted. But nothing could really help Steve now. Lost in his own misery. He knew as well as anyone that Mandy should never have been appointed in the first place and, once he had been, he should have been sacked at least 24 hours earlier. But he had no hiding place.
Many other MPs from all parties killed Doughty with kindness. Tried to spare him as they vented their anger. They knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault. Doughty looked as if he might cry when the Tory Roger Gale said the minister was a decent man and deserved better than to be sent out to the Commons on a suicide mission.
Steve’s eyes turned vacant. He wasn’t really here. Think of nice things to do at the weekend. Just keep repeating yourself. Removed from office. Additional information. No, the documents would not be released. Heaven forbid.
Finally his ordeal was over when the speaker called time. Not a moment too soon for Steve. Still no sign of Keir or Yvette. Not a word of thanks. Situation normal: all fucked up.
