Dear Keir: Keep your friend, but let him know the axe could fall

Dear Keir, I’ve known this guy, Weird Craig, since primary school. He doesn’t get on with my other mates, and it’s wrecking the vibe on nights out. Would it be wrong to stop inviting him?

Yi, Blackpool

Hi Yi. We all have a friend who doesn’t fit with the group dynamic. In my case, that friend is Ed Miliband. Ed’s a good bloke, but he’s always banging on about nerdy crap like wind farms. As well as being a downer on climate change, he’s a soft left softie. In a cabinet of rightwingers, he sticks out like a red thumb. I often have to stop the Blairites from bullying him. Just the other day, Wes Streeting hid his briefcase and Liz Kendall gave him an atomic wedgie.

Morgan keeps telling me to sack “Dead Millipede”, a demand I’ve resisted. Yes, I famously hate tree-huggers, and Ed’s been known to wrap his arms around a common beech. But I don’t have the heart to get rid of him after everything he’s been through (Edstone, bacon sarnie, etc). That said, he remains popular among the grassroots, and there are whispers he’s plotting to replace me. My advice is to keep your friend around, but let him know the axe could fall at any moment.

Dear Keir, my partner of seven years has asked for an open relationship. I’m uncomfortable with the idea, but I’m afraid to lose him. What should I do?

Hetty, Thirsk

Hi Hetty. Like politics, relationships are about compromise. Your partner wants to have intercourse with other people. You’d rather he didn’t. Why not meet in the middle and say he’s only allowed to have intercourse with people he finds unattractive?

That way no one’s happy, which proves you’ve made a sensible decision. It doesn’t have to be fair, or even make sense – what’s important is that you find the exact midpoint between your two positions.

This is how I decide all my policies. I’ll accept Reform’s argument on immigration but still call them racist. I’ll recognise a state of Palestine but still supply Israel with weapons and intelligence. When my kids asked for a No 10 dog, I negotiated them down to a kitten.

Such instincts have made me the second least popular PM on record (thank God for Liz Truss), but I’m not about to change. Any idiot can say and do things that are popular – it takes judgment and maturity to piss everyone off.

Dear Keir, I dread going to work every day. How can I get through the week?

Samson, Canary Wharf

Dear Samson, that’s a tough one. You see, I struggle to imagine having a job I don’t love.

Each morning I spring out of bed with a smile, slide my feet into a pair of prime ministerial slippers, and bound to the breakfast table, eager to discover what delights the day will bring. A bracing new report from the OBR? A one-way chat with Donald Trump? A chance to interact with MPs?

Still, I’ll try to put myself in your shoes. Perhaps you wanted this job for its perks and prestige, only to realise you’re no good at it. Now you’re trapped, subjected to constant criticism and surrounded by backstabbing colleagues. You can’t quit – that would vindicate those who doubted you (pundits, the PLP, satirical newspaper columnists). What can you do?

As I see it, your only option is to trudge joylessly ahead. Say whatever it takes to get to 6pm. Any time a negative thought pops up – that you’re a fraud, that you’re incompetent, that thousands of people could do your job better – shove it right back down. And if you’re in a prominent, public-facing role, think of the speaking fees once you’re done.

Righto, back to the grind. The lovely grind, which I love. Don’t you worry about old Keir – I’m living my best life. Never have I wanted to call a press conference and tell voters to sod off.

Yours non-despondently,

Keir xxx