Aidan Smith: Memo to Rishi: Kill the videos, lose the £490 loafers – and save the country

In Rishi Sunak’s most recent promotional video - the one where he’s had to deny using Gary Glitter on the soundtrack - the new Prime Minister is entering No 10 at speed. He shakes a few hands but doesn’t stop to talk until the briefest of exchanges in a room adorned with modern art. Out of shot, a member of staff stammers: “Um, crack on?” Sunak replies briskly: “Yes, get back … back to it.”

You can see why Team Sunak thought it would be a great idea to go for urgent drumming in the glam rock style, complete with handclaps, even if that’s not actually the convicted paedophile backing the PM. The beat doesn’t let up, it’s relentless. Something Sunak is going to have to be over the next two years, or however long he remains in place.

Maybe the answer to the question “Did you miss me, yeah, when I was away, having returned to the constituency to oversee installation of a swimming pool at my second home?” is: “No, not really.” Maybe in response to “Hello hello, it’s good to be back” the feeling isn’t altogether mutual. Now, though, he’s the leader of the gang, he is.

You may not want this gang to be in power for a day longer but if you favour the other gang, perhaps you’d rather they hung about outside for a bit to allow the foul air to clear, the way a guest at a particularly ripe dinner would do, although obviously regarding No 10 there should be no more talk of parties.

Rishi Sunak can't resist the cameras but now he's PM he should stop the cheesy videos.

For the time being, though, it’s Sunak. Let’s see what he means by “back to it”. The grown-ups are supposed to be in charge of government now and we’re told that this guy will be all about the detail. Regarding detail, of course, Boris Johnson and Liz Truss had set an extremely low bar. Sukak promises to “work day in and day out to deliver”.

The first thing I want him to do is kill those videos. Okay, that’s probably the second thing after saving the country, but definitely: stop it, just stop it. The promos were cringeworthy before and currently, in view of the utmost seriousness of the task he faces, they jar like … well, a Glitter megamix.

We’ve had Rishi the Football Fan, down the pub with the “bros”, having apparently just been instructed how to clap proficiently, then moving on tentatively to high-fives and hugs while being careful not to spill his drink - a skinny flat white.

We’ve had Rishi the Mad Axeman, sneaking into an office when no one’s around and stuffing great towers of EU legislation into the paper shredder, all in the name of “Keep Brexit Safe”.

And we’ve had Rishi the Loyal Farmhand, dutifully rising at 5am to milk the cows, although we have to take William Hague’s word for this actually having happened as it’s mentioned in a gushing testimony from Sunak’s predecessor as MP for the Yorkshire seat of Richmond but without any pictorial evidence.

It’s strange that this footage wasn’t captured as Sunak, in attempting to show us what a regular multi-millionaire he is, seems to have filmed his every move and maniacal grin, right up to that No 10 clip posted on Twitter last Friday.

What is it about Tories and photo-ops? They can’t stop themselves. Two days later came the publication of excerpts from a book about Truss - “The Inside Story of the Unexpected Rise and Rapid Fall” - which details her diva demands, diplomatic derangement - and obsession with selfies.

In case you’re wondering how all of this can possibly be true about the woman who was PM for a mere three-and-a-half minutes, it comes from her stint three years ago as Trade Secretary. It is just about possible to be endeared to Truss when you read of how, when sending her minions for sandwiches, the rule was “absolutely no mayonnaise on anything, ever”. This enables her at least to stand apart from David Cameron and George Osborne who, to the amazement and despair of Nick Clegg’s Spanish wife during the coalition years, ladled giant gloops of Hellmann’s onto just about everything.

But you feel sorry for the ambassadors and high commissioners, as well as Truss’s counterparts around the world, left dumbfounded by what one observer calls her “total misunderstanding of social context”. However, only if she was in the room was she liable to go off at “weird tangents” or be borderline rude. Sometimes on these trips she couldn’t be found, only turning up for the formalities after the snaps she craved had been loaded onto her Instagram. On a visit to Australia she hired a freelance photographer who charged £1,483 for the money shot of Truss on a bike under Sydney Harbour Bridge.

It might be an idea for Sunak to read this book as a cautionary tale. Quite apart from the perils of fiscal nincompoopery, there are the perils of self-promotion. If he thought his cheesy promos were necessary to get him to No 10; well, he’s there now, albeit via a side door. If he thought they were necessary to demonstrate he’s not out of touch then, really, the best way to relate to the rest of us is help the country through the current crisis.

In canning the videos Sunak should probably also try and avoid any more shots revealing his highly expensive tastes as these pretty much did for him in the leadership election. As PM he’ll want to leave a proper legacy - “Remember me this way,” to quote Gary Glitter for definitely the final time - rather than the ostentation of £180 coffee mugs and £490 Prada loafers, blunderingly worn on a visit to a building site.