A biting summit sketch casts Starmer as isolated, defiant and blind to a looming political exit

A biting political sketch from the G7 summit in Évian portrays Sir Keir Starmer as a leader pressing ahead while the people around him quietly contemplate his departure.

John Crace’s piece imagines Emmanuel Macron creating a private WhatsApp group for other world leaders, with Starmer conspicuously left outside. In this fictional “G6”, the question is not whether the British prime minister will return next year, but how everyone should handle what the sketch presents as his final appearance.

Should they tell him directly? Should they buy a leaving present? Or should they smile for the cameras, exchange promises about improving the world and avoid mentioning the political storm waiting for him at home?

Even Victoria Starmer’s presence becomes part of the farewell imagery. The column suggests she might get a chance to say goodbye while her husband continues behaving as though another round of summits lies ahead. That contrast gives the comedy its bleak edge, ceremony on one side, political eviction on the other.

The satire places Starmer in a state of determined denial. He talks about fighting on, leading Britain into the next election and refusing to accept that Andy Burnham might threaten his position. The more firmly he insists that his future remains secure, the more isolated he appears.

That discomfort follows him into an imagined conversation with US President Donald Trump. Macron, sensing Starmer needs encouragement, asks Trump to give him some attention. The effort quickly collapses into confusion when Trump appears to speak as though they will never meet again. Starmer misunderstands him, Trump loses the thread, and an awkward silence takes over.

Crace then widens the target. Trump boasts about peace with Iran and presents the outcome as a triumph, while the sketch mocks the cost, the disruption and the return to something close to the previous position. Starmer responds with solemn approval, treating the moment as historic and encouraging Trump to turn towards Ukraine.

The prime minister promises British help over the Strait of Hormuz, but the article immediately undercuts him by depicting the country’s military capacity as badly stretched. That theme feeds into the resignation of John Healey and the appointment of Dan Jarvis as Defence Secretary, developments that Starmer tries to present as evidence that events remain under control.

From there, the satire becomes increasingly surreal. Starmer offers government social media posts as a form of international support. He then talks about restricting social media access for older people, reversing the real debate about protecting children online and turning it into a grotesque political joke.

The sketch pushes the absurdity further with a proposed cage fight involving Pete Hegseth and an imagined plan to exterminate Dartmoor ponies. These inventions are not reported policies. They serve as deliberately extreme punchlines, designed to portray a government so desperate for momentum that almost any headline might look useful.

Macron’s final response brings the piece back to the imagined leaving present. The joke lands on a horse burger, a dark conclusion to a column built around political mortality, denial and the humiliations of power.

Beneath the exaggeration, the central image remains clear. Starmer attends an important international summit, talks about war, diplomacy and defence, yet the sketch insists that every conversation carries another question underneath it. How long can he remain in office?

Crace does not answer that question as a reporter. He sharpens it as a satirist, turning the G7 into a stage where global diplomacy and domestic vulnerability collide. Starmer keeps moving, keeps speaking and keeps insisting he will survive. Around him, in the world the column invents, everyone else has already started saying goodbye.