“I’m delighted to be here,” the prime minister declared. But where was “here”? He was standing in front of a muted red background with the words “PLAN FOR CHANGE” printed on it. He could have been in central London, or on Mars, if the Red Planet had built a chilly hall in which to hold political meetings and, on the weekends, children’s parties.

I can reveal that we were in fact at Pinewood Studios. Just the name conjures magic: the home of Star Wars and Ian Fleming’s great creation, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Was there any trace of this on screen or indeed in the hall? Of course not. The base level of excitement in the place a prime minister is speaking, and the difficulty of getting there, seem to be directly proportional to the blandness of the background in front of which they speak. On a day trip to Florence, one of the most beautiful and romantic cities on earth, Theresa May took a grey backdrop. 

It’s baffling that politicians do this. Everyone on Thursday had made an inconvenient journey — a friend who works in television says the easiest way to get to Pinewood is to hijack a plane — and it would have been worth it if we’d got to see Keir Starmer being chased by a giant stone ball, or being punched by Daniel Craig, but instead we could as easily have done the entire thing in Downing Street.

(Though not in the million-pound Allegra Stratton Memorial Briefing Suite, which has been closed for months. There’s some excuse about renovation, but given all the horrors associated with that cursed place, a likelier explanation is a round-the-clock series of exorcisms and sacrifices in an attempt to appease whatever ancient spirit was disturbed during its construction.)

The PM had to explain it all again, like a cult leader fitting a new revelation onto existing prophecy

Still, we were hoping for a little glamour: if not a glimpse of Tom Cruise running, then at least the sight of a catering truck. Instead press and VIP guests from the world of business and politics were asked to assemble in the drizzle next to some Portaloos. I understand this is how Cary Grant started out, too.

There was of course the speech to look forward to. We had been assured that it wasn’t a relaunch, which was a good thing, because that was exactly what it looked like. The document on our seats contained nine pictures of the prime minister. There were no fewer than four introductory speeches, as well as two videos (those were inaudible because of the synth music played over the top, but that bit was about vibes anyway).

We knew we were getting close to the end of the introductions when Angela Rayner came on, to welcome us to a place “where so much magic has been made over the years”. Did she sound as though she thought that tradition would be continued on Thursday? Honestly, no. Her tone was more “hostage video”. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if she’d told us that Downing Street was treating her well and begged us to comply with their demands.

And then, after another speech, we got the main event. The prime minister arrived with a weak joke about becoming the new James Bond (“Do you expect me to talk?” “Yes Mr Bond, I fear you will”) and began setting out his new milestones.

You know, milestones. As distinct from the pledges. And the missions. People sneer about this, but it’s quite straightforward, as Starmer explained. First, there are the Strong Foundations: “economic stability, national security, border security”. Got that? “Then, on those Strong Foundations, we rebuild Britain with our National Missions.” So the Missions sit on the Foundations. And those are “driven forward, in the harsh light of accountability, by the Milestones”. Clear? 

Not everyone present was, to be honest, and afterwards the prime minister had to explain it all again, like a cult leader fitting a new revelation onto existing prophecy. “The Plan For Change takes things forward with a Measurable Milestone so the public can see whether we’re making the progress that we need to make with a Mission, but the Foundation is still the Foundation Of Stone on which this is built.” It didn’t help that the press release said the milestones were a blueprint.

Buried underneath the jargon there was a reality that most of the power of a prime minister lies in their ability to persuade other people to do things, and that targets and deadlines are a useful tool in that. Starmer often has the air of a man groping his way towards his own vision. It’s possible that this speech was an important moment in that journey. A milestone, if you will. 

If there is an emerging approach, it came most clearly in the section on government bureaucracy. “I don’t think there’s a swamp to be drained here, but I do think too many people in Whitehall are comfortable in the tepid bath of managed decline,” he said, denouncing an “alliance of naysayers” whose relationship to Liz Truss’s Anti-Growth Coalition isn’t clear.

“You walk around our country, you look at our infrastructure and it is clear almost immediately that we have long freeloaded off the British genius of the past,” he went on. “We haven’t built a reservoir for over 30 years and even the projects we do approve are fought tooth and nail, until you end up with the absurd spectacle of a £100 million bat tunnel.” This was a reference to HS2, not Hollywood. But there are folks at Pinewood who can  knock up a Bat Tunnel, and indeed an entire Bat Cave, for significantly less than that. If he’d taken the time for a tour, they might have explained how.