Parliament Quietly Changes How It Describes Keir Starmer as PM Faces 'No Substance' Slurs

In a move described as a 'silent admission' of the Prime Minister's struggle to engage with scrutiny, official House of Commons channels have quietly downgraded their description of Sir Keir Starmer's weekly performance.

For the better part of a year, the Commons' official social media accounts announced that the Prime Minister had 'answered questions from MPs.' However, following a series of bruising encounters with Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch, the language has shifted.

The updated official posts now merely state that Starmer 'faced questions,' a subtle but significant linguistic retreat that mirrors mounting public frustration over a perceived lack of substance.

This small but telling change in official parliamentary language has become the latest flashpoint in mounting criticism of the Prime Minister's performance during Prime Minister's Questions (PMQs).

What began as casual ribbing from opposition benches has hardened into something more serious: a systematic concern about whether the country's chief executive is genuinely engaging with scrutiny or simply rehearsing the same pre-prepared talking points.

How PMQs Language Reveals the Starmer Stumble

The significance of this linguistic pivot cannot be overstated. For months, the House of Commons' X account—once the reliable official voice of British Parliament—had been pilloried relentlessly for its weekly proclamation that Starmer had 'answered questions'.

Social media users, political commentators, and opposition figures found it increasingly difficult to square this claim with what actually occurred on the Commons floor: a Prime Minister clutching his red folder as though it were a life raft, delivering scripted responses that bore no relation to the questions posed.

Conservative critics seized on the change immediately. One senior Tory source, speaking candidly about the shift, expressed a sentiment that echoes through Westminster: 'As his popularity has tanked, Starmer has basically stopped trying to answer even moderately probing questions.

He grips his red folder like a life buoy, bleating his pre-scripted lines and never thinking on his feet. There's no charm, no answers and no substance. He's a Prime Minister in office but not in control.'

This week alone, Conservative Party leader Kemi Badenoch pointed to a glaring example. When pressed on a recent U-turn regarding business rates, Starmer deflected entirely, offering no substantive engagement with the policy question affecting publicans across the nation.

'He didn't answer the question about business rates', Badenoch said bluntly. 'It sounds like he doesn't know what his policy is, and this has been a farce from start to finish.' The question hung unanswered in the chamber, perfectly illustrating precisely why Parliament's official spokesperson has decided to retire the verb 'answered' from its vocabulary.

The Real Cost of Parliamentary Theatre Without Substance

The House of Commons issued a characteristically bland statement in response to the discovery. 'We provide content across a range of channels to signpost and explain the business of the House of Commons, with content regularly refreshed and updated', a spokesperson said, offering the kind of non-answer that has become almost as infamous as Starmer's own performance.

Yet this administrative flourish cannot obscure what the linguistic retreat actually represents: even Parliament itself has begun to acknowledge that the Prime Minister rarely engages in genuine dialogue with his critics.

What's particularly striking is how this small change in wording exposes a broader credibility gap at the heart of British governance. When the official record keeper of Parliament decides that calling something 'answering questions' has become too difficult to sustain, it suggests the gap between what happens and what is claimed has become simply too wide.

The Prime Minister remains a powerful figure constitutionally, yet his authority seems to be draining with every evasion, every pre-scripted deflection, every missed opportunity to demonstrate actual command of his own government's direction.

For voters watching from home, this quiet change in parliamentary language is far more revealing than any shouted exchange. Actions speak louder than words, but sometimes the absence of words speaks loudest of all.