THEY say that in some quarters they refer to the Prime Minister’s current missus as “Carrie Antoinette”. This is unfair. The true mantle of the “let them eat cake” brigade is the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the multi-homed, multi-millionaire, Rishi Sunak.

The normally urbane mask slipped more than a little last week when his Spring ­statement appeared dead on arrival, even on the doorstep of some of his party’s most slavish media supporters.

Mr Sunak suffers from a condition ­common amongst those who exist on a ­different financial plane from most of the rest of the populace: their DNA is devoid of the empathy gene.

In a week populated by truly ­heartbreaking examples of how ­Theresa May’s famed “just about managing” ­families have been ­transformed into ­“unable to manage at all”, Mr Sunak’s response to a question about the cost of living was to ­reveal that his ­family likes and purchases lots of different kinds of bread.

The Sunaks’ heating “problems” are doubtless trying to remember which ­houses have their central heating on ­depending on whether we’re talking Yorkshire or ­California. Something of a contrast to the single mum he was asked about on the ­airwaves last week who faced the ­impossible conundrum of whether to let her kids get cold or stay hungry.

She is part of the burgeoning army of those who were already watching every penny, only to find that their frugal lifestyle became unsustainable when they found themselves between the rock of increased fuel costs and the hard place of inflationary rises in their grocery bills.

Sunak is part of a cabinet coterie who have mislaid the plot regarding how many people live in a UK they have transformed into a mean-spirited, isolated, increasingly impoverished landscape often as a direct result of their own policies.

I give you the equally semi-detached ­Jacob Rees-Mogg, whose London pied a terre is a Mayfair mansion, and who described the rise of food banks as an indication of a ­vibrant community spirit.

One of the saddest stories last week was those running some of food bank chains ­reporting that people were shunning ­potatoes and pasta as they couldn’t afford the cooking heat. These are quite literally unimaginable conundrums for those born with hallmarked cutlery in their mouths.

They say that good generals are lucky ones. The current political equivalent is bad governments being lucky. The ­disastrous fallout from Brexit could be handily deflected by blaming ­constipated supply chains and increased trade ­bureaucracy on Covid and the pandemic.

And now the spiralling cost of living and hikes in national insurance – ­allegedly to pay for social care for which the breath should not be held – are laid at the door of the current tragedy unfolding in Eastern Europe.

War and pestilence have served as ­useful alibis for this administration, whilst the famine has already arrived for many stricken households. No ­chancellor can do everything, intones ­Rishi. ­Certainly true. But they can decide whether ­taking back £20 from ­Universal Credit is a ­morally acceptable way to build an ­election war chest for 2024.

The doubling of child benefits and the promise of another fiver from the Scottish Government may not resemble a panacea, but at least it suggests that its priorities bear little relation to those of 11 ­Downing Street.

The money the chancellor is ­squirreling away for future tax cuts will be of no ­noticeable benefit to the poor, ­including the working poor – another ­shameful ­legacy of this government. They cite as ­evidence of their “levelling up” ­programme bungs to those ­enthusiastically promoting wheezes like “green” freeports allegedly to boost local employment.

Little mention is made of how these coastal tax havens have been used ­elsewhere to launder money, shelter ­criminal activities, pull economic ­activity from other areas, and create low wage jobs rather than the high skill ones of which the chancellor is so fond of ­boasting.

Meanwhile, little Matt Hancock popped out the woodwork the other day crowing about the Good Law Project losing a case against him. The former health secretary apparently ran out of Twitter space before flagging up the High Court judgements which had already found him guilty of dodgy dealing during the pandemic.

However, the incident was a telling ­reminder that this administration has ­presided over the death of shame.

Home Secretaries can be found guilty of serial bullying but keep their job, health secretaries can be found to have used back channels to speed contracts to ­favoured pals and Tory donors but are only shown the door when found ­snogging ­behind it.

All have taken their cue from a man who, were there any justice in the world of TV casting, would have been a shoo-in for the lead in Shameless. Our Jacob calls Partygate fluff, which is news to all those who obeyed the injunction to miss family funerals, weddings and care home visits whilst Number 10 was allegedly partying several nights away.

He is right on one count. The ­decision by Boris Johnson to break his own rules on public health protection are relatively small beer ­compared with a lifetime of diving and ducking, cheating on ­partners, cosying up to dubious donors, and, not least of all, serially breaking the once inviolable rule that no minister could lie parliament and survive.

He has been an accessory before, ­during and after the fact of putting people in the house of lords for no better reason than they’ve chucked enough money at the Tory machine. Or, worse still, because they’re a Russian oligarch with a nice line in party giving in his stately Italian pile.

Not that this rot only began with ­Johnson. David Cameron, the man who first broke Britain on the folly of Brexit, sent to the house of peers a Scottish bra manufacturer who has been a constant source of scandalous rumour ever since.

Last week one of these rumours became fact when emails from Michelle Mone to the private email of a Tory peer and then cabinet office minister for procurement indicated Michael Gove had suggested he be contacted about PPE Medpro with ­regard to PPE supplies. The ­company then joined the VIP fast track lane en route to contracts worth more than £200 million.

Owing to careless use of redactions, it became apparent that Gove, Mone and Lord Agnew all corresponded via their private emails, and it would be naïve to suppose this was uncommon practice. It’s already established Hancock did the same.

The content of the emails rather blows out the water Mone’s lawyer’s ­assertion that her involvement was brief and ­tangential given her email talks of ­sourcing the PPE “through my team in Hong Kong”.

We await news of the precise terms of reference of the long-delayed inquiry into all of these backstairs deals, but in ­January a high court ruled that the VIP lane was not a legal way to award contracts.

My worry is not just that this ­shamelessness is both widespread and tacitly encouraged by the behaviour of the charlatan in Number 10, but that over the years we have all had our shock thresholds re-calibrated.

Once, any one of these appalling ­scandals would have been the blue ­touchpaper which lit a political crisis. Now, if not exactly ho-hum territory, much of the world seems able to shrug as if to say “dreadful, of course, but what else can you expect?”

This is dangerous territory we have strayed into. We have just seen the PM’s Scottish representatives on earth decide that he was not after all the scoundrel ­unfit for office they had previously said. Or if he still is, don’t we know there’s a war on?

Rather more telling was his absence from the US/EU summitry.

They know from bitter personal ­experience how far he can be trusted.