Treasury Questions took on a livelier tone this week thanks to the unmistakable arrival of Torsten Bell.
Once known as the think-tank regular who floated through BBC studios with an air of “neutral expert,” he’s now the Labour MP for Swansea West and a minister straddling both the Treasury and Pensions portfolios.
To imagine his grand arrival, picture a meticulously trained show horse stepping into the ring—every movement polished, every gesture rehearsed.
Bell, 43, settled in among his Treasury teammates: the youthful Dan Tomlinson, the steely Lucy Rigby, the eternally sepulchral James Murray, and Chancellor Rachel Reeves, who seems to have misplaced a good portion of her serenity lately.
A Glimpse at Rachel Reeves and Her Wavering Calm
Reeves’s facial expressions have become something of an adventure.
One moment she’s flashing a bright grin, the next her smile evaporates without warning.
It’s the kind of unpredictability that might make even the most confident professional nervous—like trusting a doctor who suddenly switches moods mid-procedure.
Torsten Bell’s Confidence on Full Display
But back to Bell, who radiated self-assurance from the front bench.
He smiled, he frowned thoughtfully, he nodded vigorously whenever Labour MPs rose to speak.
The nod was almost theatrical—a sort of “splendid contribution, old chap” gesture that toe-curled into patronising territory.
His enthusiasm, however, hit a small snag: much of the heavy lifting fell not to him but to Dan Tomlinson.
Despite being younger and newer, Tomlinson calmly handled technical questions on business rates and farm taxes, often stepping in as Reeves sat stunned and silent.
His soft-spoken confidence and respectful exchanges with the Speaker stood out.
Bell’s Moment at the Despatch Box
Eventually, a question about work incentives gave Bell the cue he had been itching for.
He strode to the despatch box with an air of purpose.
His nose twitched, his voice cracked into high notes, and he peppered his reply with repeated shouts of “the party opposite.”
His left arm flailed as he tried to summon outrage, though it didn’t land quite as he intended.
Returning to his seat, he puffed up like a pigeon expecting applause.
His colleagues, however, seemed largely unmoved.
He fussed with his ear, touched his eyebrow, and repeatedly caressed his very smooth neck—behaviours that suggested he wasn’t receiving the attention he craved.
A Second Attempt to Command the Room
When another opportunity came, Bell used it to take aim at Reform UK, dismissing them as “a bunch of crazies.”
He also unveiled a new mantra about the government “backing the builders month after month after month,” which he kept repeating all the way back to his place on the bench.
What the Future May Hold for Bell
It does raise a question: if Sir Keir Starmer hits trouble one day, what becomes of Torsten Bell? Shakespeare once used the word “tosspot,” and while the meaning was rather different, the spirit of the term seems to fit—a man immensely pleased with himself, but without much justification.
Sometimes a new leader needs a symbolic gesture to lift party morale, and nudging Bell aside might do just that.
Meanwhile, Dan Tomlinson’s composure and finesse put him in a different league altogether.
A Contrast in Parliamentary Style
Elsewhere in the Commons, DUP leader Gavin Robinson demonstrated a masterclass in calm authority during an urgent question on Stakeknife, the infamous IRA double-agent.
His steady voice carried more weight than any raised one, especially when he criticised Dublin’s historic complicity with Republican terrorism.
By comparison, Northern Ireland Secretary Hilary Benn offered a much gentler, almost diluted defence of the realm—polite, but lacking the force of Robinson’s quietly delivered remarks.
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