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AFTER Natalie Elphicke’s defection to the Labour Party, the Worst of Westminster this week takes you behind the scenes as Keir Starmer draws up his plans for his new Elite Border Security Force.

It’s a hot and sunny day in London and at Labour’s new headquarters just south of the River Thames, Starmer and his top team are locked in a meeting room standing over a table of applications for the new top job of securing Britain’s borders from the invasion of small boats.

Starmer inspects an application, sent in just before the deadline and signed in blood. It arrived by carrier pigeon from the Mongol Empire late on Thursday evening.

“Genghis Khan…” murmurs the Labour leader. “Who’s he again?” Chief of staff Sue Gray pipes up: “He was awfully good in the invasion of Khwarazmian Empire, took no nonsense from the woke mob. They were banging on about their ‘human rights’ and all that rubbish and he just put millions to the sword. Inspiring stuff, really.”

Starmer considers this and flicks through the CV. “Hm. Yes he definitely has some of the no-nonsense attitude we need to Secure Britain’s Borders…”

He lands on a paragraph highlighted in the blood of Khan’s enemies. “But what’s this… His empire stretched from Mongolia to… Slovakia and Hungary? Aren’t they still in the EU?”

Gray looks at him across the table. “You’re right, we can’t be seen as being weak on Europe. That’s where we went wrong in 2019. Can’t be seen to be getting cosy with Brussels.”

“Brexit means Brexit,” says Starmer, gravely. He drops Khan’s CV into the bin.

His hand hovers over another application. It reads: “Many people have praised, they are saying that my Attempts To Build The Wall to stop the awful Mexicans COMING INTO AMERICA, they’re saying that was the greatest thing a President ever did. They come up to me and say, Donald, Donald we wish you could have built the wall before Sleepy Joe tried to get you locked up.”

Starmer turns to shadow foreign secretary David Lammy, just back from schmoozing with Trump’s people in the states. “Do you think we can do business with the Donald, David?”

Lammy tries to look thoughtful as he chews on a crisp. Swallowing slowly, he replies: “Well, he’s very good on the border stuff, for sure.

“But there is all this about the porn star and the hush money. Ideally, we don’t want the head of the Elite Border Security Force to be doing porridge in the states if we want to be taken seriously.”

Starmer nods grimly and dumps Trump’s CV into the bin as well. “This is grown-up politics,” he mutters.

A silence hangs over the room, before top Labour lieutenant Pat McFadden materialises through the wall. An unnerving habit of his he picked up during a teenage gap year in Transylvania.

“Pat,” says a clearly surprised Starmer. “I wish you would stop doing that, it’s unsettling. Anyway I thought you had to be invited into a room to come in.”

McFadden ignores this and says nothing as his eyes roll back into his head. The gaps between his eyelids are filled with a deep onyx black. He opens his mouth and his voice, which sounds like one thousand daemons speaking in chorus, fills the room.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MUST DO KEIR,” says McFadden.

Starmer nods. “THERE IS ONLY ONE MAN WHO THE BRITISH PUBLIC TRUST TO SECURE OUR BORDERS,” McFadden bellows.

Starmer picks up the phone. “Yeah, hello… Nigel, look, I need to ask you a favour…”