“That’s what we have inherited,” Keir Starmer gloomed, “not just an economic black hole, a societal black hole.” It was a beautiful day, but the prime minister had arrived with his own small black cloud of miserabilism.

We were gathered in the garden of Number 10. I say “we”, but if the prime minister is going to work from his back garden in August, I don’t see why I shouldn’t do the same.

Out in the sunshine, the prime minister was doing his best to bring us down

Having announced they were cancelling Rishi Sunak’s helicopter contract, Number 10 were arguably ramming the point home by having Starmer’s first big speech in the job in a location that he could walk downstairs to. There was another point about, which we would come to, but it was notable that the audience for the speech were people that the prime minister had met during the general election campaign, and for them a trip to Downing Street will have been a significantly better treat than the usual invitation to stand around for hours at their own place of work.

Not on whatever tour they got was the Allegra Stratton Memorial Briefing Suite, on which Boris Johnson quite recently spent £2.6 million in a predictably doomed effort to make his government more professional. It has so far been spurned by Starmer, for reasons that haven’t been explained.

Given the many terrible events that have taken place in that cursed room, Starmer’s reluctance to go within 100 yards of it is quite understandable. It is usually used for off-camera briefings of journalists, but even these have been cancelled over the summer for maintenance work. Quite what this involves is unclear: the place only opened in 2021, so the paint is still fresh. On the other hand, it has already seen off three prime ministers. It wouldn’t be a surprise to learn that the government has had a team of priests performing exorcisms round the clock for the past month.

Out in the sunshine, the prime minister was doing his best to bring us down. Grey suit, grey tie, grim message. “Things are worse than we ever imagined,” he said. “Things will get worse before they get better.” The forthcoming Budget? “It’s going to be painful.” Blimey.

At least the messenger matched the message. This is important. You wouldn’t want Graham Norton giving you a terminal cancer diagnosis, and Starmer is unlikely to follow Harold Wilson into a post-prime ministerial role as a late-night chat show host. But as a herald of bad tidings, he is perfectly cast. The Fun Is Over And It’s Time To Pay The Bill, with Keir Starmer.

We were in the garden as part of a clumsy bit of symbolism. “A garden and a building that were once used for lockdown parties,” the prime minister said, reminding us who the baddies were. “Well this garden, and this building, are now back in your service.” If I can speak for sketchwriters, it’s hard to imagine they will ever be as fully in our service as they were in the days of Johnson and Dominic Cummings, but perhaps we’re underestimating Labour.

“We’re only doing the kind of thing Boris did” really isn’t much of a defence

Indeed many of the questions afterwards were about the people who have been given jobs in the Starmer administration. This row has been pushed by Henry Newman, a former aide to Johnson. He runs the grand-sounding “Whitehall Project”, which turns out to be a £45-a-year Substack. Newman, whose partner was given a seat in the House of Lords by Johnson, has recently set himself up as an expert on cronyism. They do say you should write what you know.

“Most of these allegations and accusations are coming from the very people who dragged our country down in the first place,” Starmer replied. It is certainly the case that Newman seems more enthusiastic to write about what may be happening in Downing Street now that he’s not there than he is to reveal what exactly happened when he was.

Take, just for example, his interview to get a job in the building. In an impressive bit of multi-tasking, this also served as Johnson’s alibi for the notorious lockdown “Abba party”. The former prime minister reportedly claimed he wasn’t at his wife’s shindig in the Number 10 flat because he was interviewing Newman, one of his wife’s friends, in another part of the Number 10 flat. This was at the same time as a leaving bash was taking place downstairs from the Number 10 flat, of which Johnson was unaware, although he made a speech at it. Perhaps Newman will get onto his version of all this work-related bacchanalia later in the year.

“I’m not going to take lectures from the people who dragged our country down,” Starmer insisted, before stonewalling further questions. The slight problem is that “we’re only doing the kind of thing Boris did” really isn’t much of a defence.

“This is our country,” Starmer finished. “Let’s fix it together.” And with that, he was finished. A little rain cloud setting off to spread his message of despair across the land.