Crumbling concrete dominated PMQs. Sir Keir climbed to his feet and announced in sepulchral tones that most of Britain’s schools are likely to be flattened by the first stiff breeze of autumn. He gave an example, from May 2018, of a primary school that suddenly imploded ‘over the weekend, and thankfully no children were injured’. He used lurid tabloid language to hammer home his point: ‘Children are cowering under steel supports that stop their classroom from falling in.’
How awful. Buildings we thought were permanent turn out to be flimsy pop-up structures that are apt to collapse faster than a Labour council’s credit rating. Sir Keir blamed it all on Rishi’s fiscal incompetence and Rishi countered with decent arguments that are unlikely to cut through. However, no one mention the upside. This isn’t a crisis but a glorious turning point in Britain’s cultural history. Most newly erected buildings are brutalist eye sores so the disappearance of a few concrete monstrosities counts as a win for the communities they blight. And since education lowers the employability of children, the removal of costly learning centres is bound to boost the economy in the long run.
But talk of a watershed moment may be premature. Rishi told the House that very few of our 22,000 schools are sinking into the earth’s crust. And ‘two thirds’ of them bear absolutely no trace of the porous rice-paper or crumbly cake-mix, or whatever material was used to shore them up in the first place. Repairs will be easy, he promised. ‘Mitigation takes days or weeks to complete’. All our kids will be back in class pronto.
Next up – who to blame? Sir Keir started out ahead here since Rishi had responsibility as chancellor for the decisions that caused Britain’s classrooms to disintegrate. As back up, Sir Keir quoted the National Audit Office’s denunciation of the government’s ‘sticking plaster approach.’ But Sunak the Superwonk always fights hard when it comes to statistics. And he’d prepared his defences robustly. ‘Let me walk him through the last spending review,’ he said with a patient, condescending tone. ‘Walk him through’ is code of course. It means explaining a concept very slowly and with easy-peasy vocabulary – like a teacher telling the class why God likes to give some children a girl’s brain and a boy’s body. Rishi listed the relevant figures. An average of £2.6 billion has been spent on school maintenance during each year of this parliament – which is a 20 per cent increase.
Figures leave no imprint on the voter’s mind whereas the phrase ‘crumbling classrooms’ creates a vivid and permanent image of administrative failure
‘Far from cutting budgets, the amount spent last year was the highest in a decade,’ he said with an audible snarl in his voice. Rishi often gets angry when he quotes figures. Partly because he’s usually right. Partly because he’s usually ignored. Figures leave no imprint on the voter’s mind whereas the phrase ‘crumbling classrooms’ creates a vivid and permanent image of administrative failure. That’s all Sir Keir had to do. Recite a list of threatened schools and ask why Rishi had, effectively, arranged for their destruction. His approach was half-baked, like the troublesome concrete itself, but Sir Keir came out on top.
He saved his final building bombshell for the end. The Tories have not only abused our classrooms on a countrywide scale, they’ve also splurged vast sums of money on swish new Whitehall offices. The chief culprit is none other than Education Secretary, Gillian Keegan, the member for Effingham Blinding, whose monster bill for tarting up her luxury workplace stands at £43 million. Naturally, this is another fake scandal because Whitehall refurbs aren’t a party-political issue. But who cares? Labour are a cock-a-hoop. They’ve found another pampered Tory diva who can outspend Carrie Johnson. Happy days.
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