A week is a long time in politics, they say. This past week has been the longest. Like pulling teeth – only Keir Starmer is still sitting in No10, throbbing away like a bad root canal. Excruciating.

Meanwhile, his rivals are chomping at the bit.

These include, Wes Streeting, in his slightly-too-tight-and-too-shiny suit, his meticulously moisturised cheeks still smarting from Kemi Badenoch’s telling-off in the Commons on Wednesday. Now he’s the ex-Health Secretary (or ‘seccaterry’, as the PM pronounces it, infuriatingly), who yesterday put his big boy boots on to announce he would enter a leadership race, though doesn’t actually want to trigger one.

Then there’s Ed Miliband, casually resting a foot on the Speaker’s chair, all Head Boy swagger.

And Andy Burnham, sweeping down from his perch in the North like some Mancunian Flashman (only with even tighter running shorts), preparing to assert his droit du seigneur over the good people of Makerfield to qualify for the fight.

And let us not forget Angela Rayner, fringe newly trimmed and feathered, now supposedly purged of all HMRC sin. Not so much as a fine. Ordinary people file their tax return ten minutes late and they get slapped with a penalty. She forgets to pay £40,000 in stamp duty, and… nothing.

You know what they say: all taxpayers are equal, but some are more equal than others.

As for the Prime Minister, Sir Keir, he’s become Labour’s own Black Knight, fatally wounded but fighting on regardless, as delusional as he is ineffective.

Listening to him drone on about his working-class roots for the nine millionth time, even the most ardent Labour class warrior must have reached for the gin.

For the Leader of the Opposition, the increasingly formidable Kemi Badenoch, he is the gift that keeps on giving.

She can give him what-for at the despatch box, but she can’t deliver the final coup de grace. That must come from the ranks of his own party, but so far they’re just circling like vultures, waiting for the most opportune moment.

Meanwhile, the markets tumble, Sterling falls, the stock market quakes. The cost of one man’s vanity: the country’s financial misery.

It’s so predictable. We’ve seen this movie 100 times before – albeit with a different cast and different directors. God knows, I’ve even had a couple of walk-on parts as an extra.

The post-referendum leadership contest in 2016 and the one to replace Theresa May in 2019 – both were, from my point of view, utterly brutal. Both taught me things about human nature, so-called ‘friendship’ and the nature of politics that I would probably rather not have known.

It’s a story as old as time itself, a tale of power, betrayal, ambition and, above all, ego. Giant, gargantuan ego, the kind that eclipses all reason. To win, you must be convinced of your own brilliance, which can often mean a hefty dose of delusion, too.

It helps to be surrounded by sycophantic spads (special advisers). The politicians can be ruthless enough. But in my experience, it’s the special advisers who really do the dirty work in situations such as these. They know where the bodies are buried. If you think MPs can be lacking in principles, it’s nothing to the moral vacuum in which many political advisers work.

Everyone knows everyone else’s business – which is fine when all are friends and singing from the same hymn sheet, but less so when colleagues become sworn rivals.

When the stakes are this high, there can be no mercy. The slightest chink in the armour must be exploited. Often the victim won’t see the assassin approaching, as they will most likely be someone they trust. Or thought they did. More fool them. Et tu, Brute, etc.

The worst part is that leadership contests have very little to do with electing the best person for the job. It’s purely about who can play the game with the most skill. In fact, you might as well just stick the lot of them in a Scottish castle with Claudia Winkleman.

For ordinary voters, it smacks of vanity and entitlement. The idea that, having elected the lawyerly Starmer, the country might theoretically end up with hairy-legged Burnham or party girl Rayner in charge sticks in the craw, especially if you didn’t vote for any of them in the first place (as 66.3 per cent of the country did not).

That’s like ordering a low-alcohol lager and being served a pint of stout – or in Rayner’s case, a dirty martini. At least when the Conservatives replaced David Cameron with Theresa May in 2016 and later May with Boris Johnson, they went to the country to seek a new mandate for government (remember Brenda from Bristol: ‘Not another one’).

It backfired somewhat for May, but Johnson secured an historic victory. When it started going wrong, when the country lost faith in the Conservatives, was when the party started replacing leaders without bothering to ask the voters what they thought.

Just about the only thing this administration has going for it is that they’re not ‘the same old Tories’. But if they start chopping and changing leaders they will lose even that tenuous claim. And the indications are that whoever takes over won’t seek a new mandate, not least because Labour’s polling is so dire they don’t dare.

In fact, it may be the one thing that saves Starmer in the end – or at least offers him a stay of execution. If Labour went to the country now, they would be decimated.

Nevertheless, they will come under huge pressure to do so. Not least because, despite Labour’s large majority in Parliament, the majority did not vote for them.

In fact, arguably voters never really wanted Labour in power in the first place. Starmer only won the last election because a) people were fed up with the Tories and b) Reform voters split the vote and Labour reaped the benefits. A numbers victory, for sure, but not one of hearts and minds.

Starmer was handed a fantastic opportunity but he blew it. There is no reason to suggest that any of his potential successors will fare any better. In fact, if I were advising Andy Burnham, I would tell him to steer well clear of the whole circus.

It’s one thing being ‘King of the North’, but it’s quite another taking on responsibility for the entire country, not to mention a divided, discredited, disillusioned party. Especially if, as it is likely to be, his turns out to be more of a coronation than an election.

How can you call it democracy when 76,000 people in Makerfield get to elect the next prime minister? Not the firmest of footings on which to get off on, is it? Clearly the adulation has gone to his head, or else he’d take off those running shorts and stick to doing what he does best, ie being the greatest leader Labour never had.

Where does all that leave us? A summer of discontent, I would say. Backstabbing, bitching, briefing and counter-briefing. Meanwhile, the country struggles on, doing its best to keep its head above water as the ship slowly sinks.

If you think last week was bad, brace for more. Things, as they say, can only get worse.