Rishi sinks into the TV sofa as Boris gloats and Mel goes rogue | John Crace

TThere was one man missing from the group of cabinet ministers who descended on the lower space of the National Army Museum in Chelsea for Rishi Sunak’s farewell to London. Even Jeremy Hunt, Steve Barclay and Lord Big Dave had made the effort to resurrect themselves for a final hurrah. To say goodbye to the political stage. To hear Boris Johnson demolish what passes for their government’s legacy.

It was not a pretty sight. No one has done more to degrade the office of prime minister than Boris; the man who slept and partied while others died had nothing but kind words for himself. Rish! was not worth mentioning. This was another farewell party he was not going to miss. One last chance to kick his ass. To put the final nail in the coffin. Sunak’s flair for self-destruction was impeccable once again. Placing his trust in a narcissistic solipsist was never going to end well.

The man who got away was Mel Stride. He was sorely missed, because no one deserved a proper send-off from the last 300 or so loyalists in south-west London more than the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions. Apart from Sunak, no one did more in this election to fight the Tories’ mediocre fight. Time and again he had to go on TV or radio to explain the latest misfire. How leaving veterans on the beaches was a sign of respect. How betting on the election date was perfectly normal. That sort of thing.

But Mel had pretended long enough. He had too much self-respect to attend his and Sunak’s funerals. Enough was enough. He was angry and he wasn’t going to take it anymore. Someone else could sort out the Tory party’s affairs from now on.

The clenched-toothed grin stopped there, right there. The thought of engaging in polite small talk with a whole group of colleagues, many of whom wouldn't even be in Westminster on Friday morning, made him want to vomit. Late in the day, it was time to pull himself together.

Sunak must have thought he could go to bed relatively content on Tuesday night, knowing that his favourite scapegoat would pick up the pieces on the morning media tour. Good old Mel. Reliable Mel. Mel who had never made waves. Or done anything interesting in his life.

There was certainly nothing in Emma Barnett’s tone of voice that suggested she was expecting anything extraordinary when she began interviewing Stride for the Today show. It just seemed like we were faking it. Barnett was asking some questions more out of politeness than in any hope of getting a proper answer. And who could blame her? She hadn’t even bothered to sound aggressive. It was too late in the campaign for that. Everyone was tired. And then there was just Mel.

Except Mel broke the fourth wall of politicians. Instead of just saying that the only poll that matters is the July 4 poll, he kept saying. Yes, the Conservatives lost this election, he said. More than that, they're going to get crushed. He almost seemed pleased with the loss. As if his party deserved everything that had happened to it. The end couldn't come soon enough.

Barnett was not the only one caught off guard by this affair. Labour was too. Keir Starmer sensed a plot. It was a clever ruse to make voters think it was all over. To keep them at home for fear of inevitable futility. Except it wasn’t a directive from Tory headquarters. Think about it. Is there anything in this campaign that would make you imagine the Tories could come up with such sophisticated messaging? That’s what Isaac Levido and James Forsyth are talking about. The two men who make Liz Truss’s operations look like machines. They’re the fools.

The truth is much more prosaic. With less than 24 hours to go before the election, Mel, the most defeated male, had discovered a certain self-esteem. He had understood that he did not have to say bullshit just because a teenager in Downing Street told him to. Instead, he could tell the truth. He could tell what everyone listening knew to be fact. He could look at himself and the country in the eye.

No wonder Sunak looked so stressed when he settled down on the This Morning sofa later this morning. If you’ve lost Mel, you’ve lost everything. Rish tried to look casual in his too-short, boyish-fit chinos, but his eyes are now dead. He’s done and seen things that no politician should have to endure. Most of them his own doing. But it’s already too late for recriminations.

Even Ben Shephard and Cat Deeley, not the fiercest of interviewers, seemed to take pity on the Prime Minister. Almost apologetically, Ben mentioned the Mel Stride interview. “That's over, isn't it?” he said. “Think of the great things you can do once you've left 10 Downing Street. He could spend more time with the most tattooed woman in Britain who was on the show earlier. Or maybe he could have his own cooking show on Channel 5. Sad face Rish! He wasn't much into food. His favourite thing was a sandwich.

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We then had a tedious intermezzo in which Sunak tried to explain why not having a plane to Rwanda was a success. Everyone’s eyes widened. Rish! is so yesterday’s man. I have a plan, he sobbed. Except he doesn’t. He never had a plan other than to become prime minister. That’s part of the problem. No real convictions. Just an absurdly inflated idea of ​​his own genius and a tick on his CV before he goes off to California. Let’s hope he’ll be happier there.

It is hard to know whether we are in delusion or denial. Ben mentioned Boris Johnson’s appearance the day before. Yes, Sunak said. It was great to be back with the Conservative family. How can one man misinterpret the room so badly? It was not a meeting.

Rish! and Boris never met their father’s eye. They were never within arm’s reach. Johnson hates Sunak. He blames him for his own mistakes. The only reason he came was to rejoice. To perform the last rites. And while we were on the subject of family reunions, where was Liz Truss? Erased from history. Erased from her own life.

It’s time to go. Sunak has set off on a pointless journey to nowhere. To parts of central England he will never see again. To nothingness.

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