These are bumpy days for Lords of the Bedchamber. They, in history, were a king's most intimate courtiers, their fortunes closely allied to those of the monarch they served.
No longer mistress of all she surveys, no longer empress of the horizon, Rachel Reeves crouched on the Commons front bench with a knot of her closest supporters. Six fretful souls at a bus stop.
These sessions are notorious for being turgid waffle-fests yet Sir Keir sat before the U-shaped table with discernible excitement, writes QUENTIN LETTS.