It’s eerie, it’s excruciating … Rishi Sunak and Keir

They may well like the game, but as an England fan, I don’t want my big Euros summer sullied by performative politics

Field report from east London, weekend of 9 and 10 June 2024: Rishi Sunak has destroyed the Adidas Samba. Possibly for ever, possibly irreparably. You will of course recall that the Samba was the unanimous “shoe of the summer” for two years running until its appearance on the prime minister’s Instagram page at the start of April, at which point it became shoesona non grata among London’s cool, interesting-sunglasses-wearing elite. Since then, I and most people with east London postcodes have had a tricky relationship with the Samba. I hold my own personal pair up every time I get dressed (you can’t argue with that silhouette! The colourway goes with everything!), imagine Sunak wearing them with a shirt, black socks and chinos (insane!), then promptly put them down again. I bravely wore a pair to the local park, London Fields, over the weekend in an attempt to “reclaim” them, but they went down with a clunk and I’m not sure I can show my face there again.

Why is this relevant? Well, I think it illustrates quite neatly what a dark kiss of death politicians can put on something cool by expressing even a mild interest in it or appreciation of it (arguably Rishi killing the Samba is the most tangible change he has enacted as PM). I think often and fondly about the time Tom Watson quit Labour’s shadow cabinet on a massive Glastonbury comedown, and signed off his resignation letter with a plea to Ed Miliband: “If you want to see an awesome band, I recommend Drenge.” Why would you say that? Don’t say that. I want my politicians to wear black suits that don’t fit very well, know what Hansard is and nothing else, and once every five years one of the particularly ghoulish-looking ones who sits at the back gets in a funny sex scandal. Stop wearing trainers! Stop listening to Drenge! Do your job!