Some might argue that delving this deep into a purely hypothetical duet of scenarios is pointless and unhelpful. To that, I say dogs still dream.
This all relies on humility and honesty, two things politicians generally avoid at all costs. Crucially, to make this dreamt coalition work, Ed Davey is not a slowly degrading parrot on Starmer’s shoulder, and the Lib Dems cannot be Labour’s get-out-of-jail card.
After a hung parliament forces a red and yellow deal to be struck, Starmer and Davey greet the press in matching shiny sequined orange suits- they are determined to dispel the negative stigma around coalitions, and tell the world there will be no chaos here. Just vibes.
At the forefront of the new government’s beliefs is that they must work coherently together to prevent another prolonged period of austerity-ridden Tory rule, so they sit down and go through their pledges and values. Some stuff is pretty easy: improvement of public services, more money to the NHS, and they even agree on a surprising amount of environmental policy after Starmer woos Davey with a particularly tasty vegetarian lasagne at an early Downing Street dinner.
The biggest decision that comes from the Lib-Lab team-up is that Starmer, urged on by many a Labour MP, agrees to first debate and then propose major reforms to the electoral system. The acknowledgment of the smaller parties in Britain is portrayed well, and the point is hammered home that the Tories cannot have a majority in parliament ever again. The move is popular, and it is agreed that the system will be scrupulously planned out and phased in over the next four years.
Without the worry of losing an election outright looming over him, Starmer begins to reconnect with some of the more left-leaning values that he lost in the Tory shitstorm years. This reconstruction sees him grow his hair and beard out, as well as proposing a revolutionary rise in corporation tax and raising the minimum wage to meet inflation.
The lefties are happy, the Lib Dems are high on life (and more, if their proposed legalisation laws bear fruit) as they finally feel impactful, and the populist Tory mayhem is contained effectively. Lib-Lab-Love.
Key to this is a lack of compromise from the two parties. Labour are hungry for a future majority, and very much initially see themselves as the primary party. Starmer likes the look of himself as PM and books lots of pretentious photoshoots, mirroring his uni pictures – Davey not invited.
Labour block any talk of electoral reform or re-joining the EU in fear of causing too much commotion early on, and even refuse the Lib Dems’ more popular policies such as marijuana legalisation, as it was not what they envisioned. The Lib Dems, frustrated at an immediate lack of cooperation and weed, block some acceptable proposals out of stubbornness and retaliation. The result is a parliament that can only agree on a few basics from their manifestos and an underwhelming first period of coalition government.
The move further to the centre causes the biggest Labour lefties to kick off and cause inter-party issues. Constant Starmer smearing weakens him as PM and opens the door to Tory re-emergence.
Independent MP Corbyn is massacring Starmer in every PMQs to raucous applause. Davey sees the way it is going and starts to have flashbacks, so decides to reject anything he sees as too Labour-led. Lefties call Davey a Tory as they’ve forgotten what Tories are actually like, Tories call him a backstabber, and anti-coalition sentiment is there for them to exploit. Labour look weak and divided.
Starmer caves and shits himself, calling a panic EU referendum in a desperate attempt to mend coalition relations. It flops after he responds to every question with “I cannot promise that will happen”. It leaves previous trade deals gone, and international relations weakened. Starmer resigns and Davey welcomes it, saying he was always blocking the Downing Street loo.
Larry the Cat dies from heart problems after a lack of communication between the two parties leads to him being overfed into oblivion. Mice and rats run havoc in number 10, at one point Davey is speaking at the plinth and a little mouse appears on his shoulder, which he grabs and stomps on viciously in front of the cameras, screaming and smashing up the plinth in rage at his humiliation. He leaves.
With an election looming and Tories licking their lips, Jacob Rees-Mogg wins a Tory leadership race and is filibustering like he’s never filibustered before. Tories get the whip removed if they are seen with their shirt untucked, and opposite the scruffy crumbling coalition they look composed and respectable. All memory of austerity has been erased as if one big Men in Black pen has flashed the nation.
The two new leaders of Labour and Lib Dems respectively try to restore some kind of faith by quickly agreeing on some nothing-y, nice sounding policies and take millions of pictures shaking hands. The nation collectively cringes at all of it.
Election rolls around, Lib-Labs are getting doors slammed in their faces, and the results are devastating. BLOO, everywhere.
Rees Mogg takes 10 Downing Street and the end is nigh. His first move is to make tracksuit wearing punishable by public hanging, at which point ‘30p’ (Now ‘60p’ thanks to inflation) Lee Anderson’s raging boner accidently presses the big red nuke button, sending a WOMD to Russia and instigating World War Three. It lasts 15 minutes as mutually assured destruction finally occurs.
Earth emerges from the smoke as a lifeless, radioactive rock, with the only remnant of a failed society being Boris Johnson’s indestructible sperm bank donation, which eventually spawns a race of mutated Boris beasts, capable of destroying whole planets with one spout of bullshit.