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Keir Starmer former prosecutor, full-time deflector, and now part-time Prime Minister in what looks increasingly like an accidental performance art project has once again kicked a can so far down the road it's crossed into next year.


The scandal? A rather inconvenient rent boy saga involving mysterious payments, unanswered questions, and yet another court date pushed far, far away so far, in fact, that by the time it finally arrives, Starmer will have finished reshaping the UK into the bureaucratic gulag of his wet dreams.


How very convenient. Justice delayed, truth denied, and Starmer left free to carry on with his national demolition job: taxing employers into extinction, regulating entrepreneurs like potential war criminals, and treating police recruitment like a game of guess-who with the local theatre group.


Let’s be honest if this rent boy case involved anyone outside the political class, it would have been fast-tracked, televised, and dissected on Newsnight before you could say “EU flag emoji”.


But Starmer? No. He gets the deluxe delay package the kind of protection usually reserved for royal corgis and Hamas.


By the time the truth dribbles out in some dusty courtroom next year, the headlines will have been rewritten, the spin machine long retired, and the public thoroughly anaesthetised.


And while the nation waits, Keir continues to gallop around on his hobby horses: demonising landlords, crushing SMEs, and flooding communities with rules, regulations, and diversity training while actual criminals walk free and businesses haemorrhage jobs like it’s government policy which, let’s face it, it probably is.


This isn’t leadership. This is gaslighting at a national level. He feigns moral authority while hiding behind red tape and court calendars, hoping we’ll all forget there’s a sleazy little scandal in the shadows.


And when the day finally comes, what then? A slapped wrist? A “lessons learned” press release drafted in advance?


Starmer’s great political talent isn’t vision or charisma it’s inertia. He delays, deflects, and distracts with the grace of a man who’s spent a lifetime never answering a straight question. Meanwhile, British businesses are left swinging from the gallows of his policies taxed, strangled, surveilled while he busies himself managing his court diary like it’s a social brunch calendar.


The rent boys may eventually testify, but the damage Starmer does in the meantime will echo louder than any verdict. Because while the boys wait for justice, Britain waits for leadership. And under Starmer, neither are coming anytime soon.