The Great X-cape: Why Sir Keir is Back on the Bird
A masterclass in the politics of the void: Scraping the barnacles, shedding the soul, and crawling back to the bird.
It took exactly one week of 2026 for the moral compass of the British government to perform a perfect 180-degree spin. Sir Keir Starmer has officially ended his performative boycott of X, scuttling back to the platform he recently branded a ‘disgrace’ and a ‘threat to democracy’. Apparently, ‘standing on principle’ has a shelf life of about fourteen days when the alternative is shouting into the digital void of Threads.
The official line from Number 10 is that Elon Musk’s recent ‘concessions’ on Grok’s AI-generated mischief have made the platform safe for civilised discourse again. But we all know the truth: Sir Keir realised that being ‘principled’ in a vacuum is just a fancy way of being invisible.
The Barnacle-Scraper in Chief
This return to X is the crown jewel of the government’s new Barnacles Strategy. For those not fluent in Whitehall-speak, ‘scraping the barnacles off the boat’ is the official code for: ‘We realised this policy makes us look like authoritarian nannies, so we’re binning it before the local elections.’
The list of ‘barnacles’ currently being tossed overboard is growing by the hour:
The ‘Brit Card’ (Digital IDs): Only four months after Starmer declared you ‘would not be able to work without one’, the mandatory requirement has been scrapped. It’s gone from an ‘essential security pillar’ to a ‘flexible option’ faster than you can say civil liberties.
The X-odus: After calling the platform a ‘disgrace’, Keir is back. The principled boycott lasted exactly as long as it took for him to realise that screaming into the void of Threads is the digital equivalent of wearing a ‘Kick Me’ sign.
The ‘Family Farm Tax’: Following a weekend where Whitehall was essentially a tractor car park, the inheritance tax threshold was hiked from £1m to £2.5m. A ‘victory for common sense’ that only arrived after the government realised farmers actually own the food supply.
The Winter Fuel Payment: After the ‘responsible’ decision to cut payments for 10 million pensioners, a ‘miraculous’ discovery of funds allowed for a partial climbdown. Apparently, ‘fiscal responsibility’ is a variable that changes based on how many 80-year-olds are freezing in your inbox.
Tuition Fees: The leadership pledge was to scrap them. The 2024 policy was to ‘review’ them. The 2026 reality? They’ve just been hiked to over £9,500. It’s not just a U-turn; it’s a financial mugging of the very generation they promised to protect.
The £28 Billion Green Prosperity Plan: The original barnacle. Scraped, incinerated, and scattered at sea before the 2024 election even began.
The Pub Tax: Plans to scrap business rate relief for hospitality—a move that would have liquidated the British high street—are currently being ‘re-evaluated’. Translation: They remembered that people like beer more than they like Rachel Reeves’ spreadsheets.
Nationalisation: Remember ‘Common Ownership’? It’s been diluted into Great British Energy, which is less a nationalised utility and more a state-funded investment bank for the private sector.
The Liberal Authoritarian Loop
The irony here is thicker than the London fog. We are currently witnessing a masterclass in the very liberal authoritarianism that has come to define 2026. This is a government, and a wider liberal establishment, that spent years arguing that certain voices should be silenced, that platforms like X should be regulated into oblivion, and that ‘desiccated’ views (like those of Charlie Kirk or any other non-conforming voice) are so dangerous they deserve neither a platform nor, in some of the more ghoulish corners of the internet, a pulse.
Yet, the moment the state needs to broadcast its own ‘truth’, the ‘cesspit’ becomes a ‘necessary forum for engagement’. They want to regulate your speech, monitor your ‘right to work’ via a digital leash, and cheer when their opponents are cancelled—but they reserve the right to tweet their own press releases whenever the ‘Barnacles’ start weighing them down.
Honesty in Newark?
While Keir is busy reconciling with the Chief Twit, the right side of the aisle is providing its own brand of comedy. Robert Jenrick has finally completed his journey from ‘Standard Issue Tory’ to ‘Reform UK Warrior’. Sacked by Kemi Badenoch yesterday for plotting a defection, Jenrick appeared on stage with Nigel Farage, looking like a corporate accountant who accidentally wandered into a mosh pit.
Jenrick claims he’s found his soul and his commitment to free speech. It’s a touching narrative, provided you ignore the fact that he only discovered these burning convictions once his career in the Conservative Party was as dead as the Brit Card.
The theme of 2026 is clear: Conviction is a luxury for the powerless. For those in charge, principles are just barnacles—to be touted when they’re useful and scraped off the moment they slow down the boat. Sir Keir is back on X, not because he believes in free speech, but because he’s terrified of what happens when he isn’t the one trying to control it.