David and Rob are collecting rubbish in their old wheelbarrow. But they'd like something a bit more permanent. 'You got any jobs going?' Dave asks me. 

I have to tell him that sadly I don't, and explain that I'm walking around the tight terraces of Willows Close in Washington, Tyne and Wear, trying to ascertain how people are planning to vote in this week's local elections.

Neither man intends to go to the polls. But they still provide me with a small clue about prevailing political sentiment.

'You know, you look a bit like Keir Starmer with that hair,' Rob observes. 'You'd better watch it. People don't much like him round here. You might get hit over the head with a shovel.'

The estate I'm walking around is in Washington East ward, which is fast becoming Labour's ground zero. The party currently has a vice-like grip on Sunderland Council. But according to the poll aggregator PollCheck, that will all change on Thursday.

Of the current 49 Labour Sunderland councillors, only 13 are expected to survive.

And according to the latest projections, Washington East is set to turn from Labour red to Reform turquoise.

Anne, who is standing outside in the sun, painting her fence with her eldest daughter, tries to tell me why. 'I always vote Labour,' she explains, 'but this time it's complicated. I'm a healthcare assistant and I only earn minimum wage. I can't afford childcare.'

She pauses to apply another coat of rusty matt finish. 'I'm out all day and night. And people who aren't working are getting looked after by the Government. Starmer? He's supposed to be on my side. But he isn't, is he?'

As I carry on walking I notice there is no obvious evidence the elections that many believe will seal the fate of another Prime Minister are even taking place.

But again there are hints of the local mood in the form of several Union Jacks that are hanging from window frames and clothes lines. Though some people remain stubbornly immune to Nigel Farage's populist charm.

At the bus stop I find Edith waiting patiently for the number 84 bus. How will she be voting, I ask. 'Labour,' she replies. 'It's how my parents voted. And I'm 91. Too late to change now.'

A few minutes down the road, the compact rows of flats open out into a picturesque green, with a neatly maintained war memorial, local church dating back to the 12th century, and row of cosy coffee shops. This is Washington Village, one of the old pit communities that make up this corner of North-East England.

Viv, a retired receptionist, is enjoying a morning coffee with her friend Helena, an NHS worker. Does she know who she'll be backing this week?

'Nigel Farage,' Viv replies. 'He says what he thinks. And what a lot of us are thinking.'

I ask her views on my Prime Ministerial doppelganger. 'Starmer? The problem with him is he seems so distant. He just doesn't appear connected.'

She takes another sip from her cup. 'Though I do have some concerns about Reform. I think they're a bit inexperienced.'

Helena laughs. 'Both of my sons vote Reform,' she interjects, 'but they do it for a joke. They think that Farage is hilarious.' Given what I'm picking up, I'm not entirely sure Keir Starmer will see the funny side.

When the campaign started over a month ago, the perception in Westminster was his party was heading for major losses but Sir Keir would probably survive them, given the popular response to his stance on the Iran war.

But then the Peter Mandelson scandal burst back into the headlines. And the new conventional wisdom is that if areas like Washington turn their back on him, the Prime Minister will be toast.

One thing that's clear from my couple of days on the doorsteps is that Mandelson has not cut through. Before I left one Labour MP told me: 'You watch. No one up there will mention his name.' A prediction that turns out to be true.

But what's equally true is that nobody here is mentioning the Strait of Hormuz either. Downing Street had confidently been briefing that Starmer's statesmanlike stance on the crisis would begin to reset perceptions of him. But that is proving to be wishful thinking.

The views I'm currently hearing are no different to the views I've been receiving throughout the past 12 months. 'He's out of touch. He doesn't understand us. He promised change, but what's he actually delivered?' One thing that is subtly different, though, are people's views on the leader of Reform. Nigel Farage still enjoys significant support. But for the first time, I'm finding it qualified.

When I've visited Labour's crumbling Red Wall seats in the past, he has benefited from a level of adoration bordering on the messianic. Now doubts are starting to creep in.

Concerns over his and his party's lack of experience are matched, paradoxically, by a feeling he no longer stands apart from the political pack.

On several occasions, people who expressed anger at issues like immigration and welfare just shrugged when I asked if they thought Reform represented the solution. 'What's the point, they're all the same,' is again becoming the default response.

But I suspect it will not be enough to save Starmer. Either here in the North-East, or nationally. Anger and disillusionment at the Prime Minister are now baked in. No amount of resets, relaunches or rebrands will alter the opinion of the people I spoke to in Washington. Starmer's opportunity for a Hugh Grant-like 'Love Actually moment' has been and gone.

Similarly, the growing doubts about Reform will not feed through significantly into this week's results. Because those voters who do bother to go to the polls see these local elections as only presenting them with a binary choice. A vote to endorse Keir Starmer, or a vote to reject him. And they feel their concerns about Nigel Farage can be set aside till another day.

I managed to leave Washington without being hit over the head with a blunt instrument. On Thursday I'm not sure the Prime Minister will be so lucky.