An open-collared, stony-eyed Keir Starmer got in his self-denials early. As demolition day began, the PM insisted he was ‘not going to walk away and plunge the country into chaos’.

Four times he did that telephone-tree thing of repeating a message, no matter what had just been said. He kept saying the results were ‘tough’, as if they were some slice of undercooked pork. That another person had cooked.

Responding to election losses is miserable for any politician. Such moments do give us voters fleeting vengeance on the boobies who govern us but the catharsis is better when the politicians show emotion. Sir Keir just kept mechanically blurping, ‘I am not going to walk away’.

While the nasal knight was indoors at a Methodist hall in Ealing, surrounded by droopy bunting, Nigel Farage was on the far side of London in the sunshine, flanked by gurning Reformers. Behind them stood Havering town hall, built in 1937 in the international moderne style. It was, cried Mr Farage in his pint-of-gin voice, ‘under new management!’

A suntanned, blue-suited Farage clutched the signet ring on his left hand’s pinkie. There was much gassy laughter as he eyed his succulent prospects. Should Sir Keir quit? Farage hoped not. ‘He’s our best asset!’

Elsewhere in the capital a Green woman with a pink fringe won the mayoralty of Hackney. The returning officer had a job controlling the crowd. ‘If I could continue, puh-lease?’ she said amid whoops, ululations and other vegan eructations. ‘Excuse me, excuse me, puh-lease, hello, can I continue?’

The Greens’ publicity prone leader, Zack Polanski, sped to Hackney as fast as a Roadrunner. He got there in time to engulf the new mayor in a hug. For several seconds Sister Pink Fringe disappeared from view. Mr Polanski may be just fine if things stay that way.

Things were hotting up in Wales, where the constituencies had been given new names, all in Welsh. The BBC ran a training film to help voters pronounce their home areas. Huw Irranca-Davies, Labour’s deputy leader in Wales, popped up with a little grey goatee. Col Harland Sanders had been at the Ozempic. A dented Mr Irranca-Davies was a lot more likeable than Sir Keir. It’s not a small field. The Welsh results took ages because it all had to be done in two languages. Labour’s Anna McMorrin MP spoke of ‘a tough set of results, tough night, tough day’.

It was certainly tough for the sign-language interpreters who must have felt they were on a Jane Fonda workout. Ms McMorrin claimed Sir Keir should be left in situ because ‘he was elected with a mandate for five years’. Constitutional sticklers might tell her there is no such thing as a personal mandate for a PM.

Back to the blockage in the works – the man who has locked himself in No10’s khazi and won’t come out. Sky News’s Beth Rigby asked Sir Keir how he was feeling. Out came some string-of-sausage cliches before Sir Keir said: ‘It’s absolutely clear that the electorate is fed up with...’ There was a tiny pause and I thought he might be about to say ‘ME!’ Alas not. It was something boring about our lives not improving fast enough.

That tieless collar did Sir Keir no favours. When Mary Queen of Scots stepped on to the execution scaffold she bared her neck for the violent deed. Sir Keir’s white neck evoked that icy day in 1587. Hundreds of unelected Labour politicians will certainly be thinking ‘let’s give him the chop’.

Emma Reynolds, Environment Secretary, caused a brief flurry by taking to X to demand ‘a change of leadership’ and ‘real change’. It turned out she was talking about the boss of some water firm who had taken customers (not voters) for granted.

On a day of ‘new politics’, one result certainly suggested things are changing. In Bangor Conwy Mon, the Official Monster Raving Loony Party thrashed both the Heritage Party and the Commies.