His jaw was clamped shut, his shoulders forced back and his legs were wrapped together tighter than two pythons strangling a gazelle.
Along his upper lip, a thin film of sweat glistened under the piercing hot studio lights. I’m no body language expert but when Sir Keir Starmer popped up on the BBC Breakfast sofa yesterday morning my first thought was. tense!
Stiffer than whipped meringue peaks. A man on the defensive. But then could you blame him?
The Breakfast Show format is not Sir Keir’s domain. It requires a relaxed, showbizzy touch a la Blair or Cameron, which he hasn’t mastered.
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