The Prime Minister has to give two of his top bods the chop? In a fortnight? If he’s that bad at choosing the right people then maybe he should go too. Or so the whisper goes. But it’s not that simple. And, as our Political Correspondent Peter Spencer reports, the orange oligarch jetting across The Pond for his state visit this week also has plenty of squirming to look forward to.
Our man in Washington, Peter Mandelson, got the heave-ho after it was revealed that he kept up his bromance with the late paedophile Jeffrey Epstein even after he’d been banged to rights for sex trafficking.
Should have been an open and shut case, and questions remain over why Starmer took longer than anyone else to spot the obvious.
But he had his reasons. Notably that the last thing he wanted was for Donald Trump’s upcoming landing to be dominated by accusations about his own dealings with the notorious pervert.
It’s worth remembering that The Donald is also legally defined as a sexual predator, after a successful court case brought by a victim of his unwanted attentions.
And though he denies having sent his old pal Epstein a lewd birthday card complete with a naked woman sketch, a leading handwriting expert is adamant that the signature is his.
Starmer’s problem being that Trump is, besides being capriciously unpredictable and grotesquely thin-skinned, the most powerful man in the world.
Meaning that at the twitch of his fingers he can make Chancellor Rachel Reeves’ calculations for her November budget even harder than he already has, with the import taxes that he plays with like a wrecking ball.
Which was where Peter Mandelson came in. His capacity for winning friends and influencing people is legendary, and he did his Prince of Darkness stuff so well on the Prez that he earned the title of Trump whisperer.
True to say nearly all world leaders have been biting their tongues and tickling the so-called manbaby’s tummy to keep him tame. But there’s no question Mandie’s magic worked better even than Vladimir Putin’s.
Now, however, the Trump trip to our shores could be overshadowed by embarrassing confrontations with British hacks who, unlike some of their Yankee counterparts, aren’t cowed by him.
And if that happens it’s perfectly possible that all our patient, if at times oleaginous efforts, could unravel.
No surprise then that Starmer’s gnawing his fingernails as well as biting his tongue. Both on this front, and about who might be the next deputy leader of the Labour party.
His choice of Angela Rayner as deputy PM, was, like Mandelson leading the charge across the Atlantic, based on sound logic.
So when she too had to go, in her case thanks to irregularities in her tax affairs, it was a severe blow.
That’s because for all his working class credentials Starmer comes across as a bit of a posh boy, while Rayner’s tough upbringing was there for all to see.
And the leftie faction in the Labour party’s increasingly anxious and fractious coalition loved her for it.
What’s more, the contest to succeed her is a two-filly race, between a female minister and Starmer loyalist, and a woman he’s just been sacked. Meaning she can be as rude about him as she likes.
Cue a fun bun-fight when they publicly slug it out at the Labour conference at the end of this month. Yet another headache for poor Sir Keir as he stumbles from cockup to cockup.
Little wonder then that Nigel Farage is rubbing his hands in glee, and gloating about his Reform Party’s rock-solid opinion poll lead.
Arguably, however, a cutting quote from Oscar Wilde could have been written just for him. ‘In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.’
There’s no question that Starmer’s always earnest and generally boring speech patterns don’t stand a chance against the Farage froth.
Indeed many would say that a French radio station hit the nail sur la tête when it accused our Prime Minister last week of: ‘Having all the charisma of a canteen apple crumble.’
Such a far cry from Farage’s spectacular summer triumph, whipping up a frenzy over the single issue of immigration and asylum.
According to a YouGov survey getting on for half of us now think this is the nation’s biggest problem. While only a quarter plump for the economy, and fewer than one in ten worry most about health.
Make sense of that if you will, bearing in mind that hotels housing small boat arrivals are only to be found here and there, while we all have to pay our bills and we’re all susceptible to getting poorly.
Also worth remembering that, all those years back, it was Farage who pretty much single-handedly spooked one-time Tory PM David Cameron into holding the Brexit referendum.
His successor Theresa May tried but failed to limit potential economic damage. So it fell to Boris Johnson, in the words of his winning slogan, to: ‘Get Brexit done.’
Seems that only then did he spot that the departure of Europeans left gaping holes in key areas of the jobs market, like healthcare, tourism and construction.
And his solution, after all that jabbering on about ‘taking back control’, was to let immigration rip.
Also, unlike the Poles or whatever working their socks off to send money back home to their families, who were nearly all staying put, the new newcomers are more minded to bring their loved ones over here.
You can’t blame them for that. But those who’re buying into the Farage pitch of chucking out foreigners might care to scroll back a decade and ask themselves whose efforts brought them here in the first place.
He’s doubtless well aware of the old saying in tabloid journalism: ‘Never let the facts stand in the way of a good story.’ But whatever else might be levelled at him, he can’t be accused of squeamishness.
Another person who can’t, but this time according to the other, quite different, definition of that word, is a nurse named Misty Combs, from Kentucky.
She swung into action when she spotted a baby raccoon that had got totally off its face on fermented peaches and passed out.
Curiouser and curiouser to be sure, but this story is gospel, honest.
Misty had spotted the mother frantically hunting for her little ones but only managing to find one of them.
The other was lying in a puddle at the bottom of a rubbish skip. Which also contained the dodgy peaches dumped in it by workers at a nearby distillery.
It looked pretty dead. But Misty administered CPR anyway, even though raccoons carry rabies and she was terrified that it might come to and respond to all this chest and back thumping by biting her.
Happily, that didn’t happen. Instead, when it showed signs of life they whisked it off to the local vet, who deemed it sufficiently recovered the next day to be set free near where the mom had been searching.
Misty could but hope she got lucky this time, as she’d risked her life for the animal because, she explained, her very own: ‘Motherly instincts kicked in.’
Kindlier and kindlier eh? Bring it on !
Watch Peter’s report at peterspencer.org
Peter Spencer has 40 years experience as a Political Correspondent in Westminster, working with London Broadcasting and Sky News. For more of his fascinating musings on the turbulent political landscape, follow him on Facebook & Twitter.