Keir Starmer’s on the pitch, he thinks it’s all over … Well, it will be soon | John Crace

The dream lives on. With 15 minutes left against the Democratic Republic of Congo in Atlanta, England were in danger of going out of the World Cup. The defeat would have been one of the more humiliating exits from an international tournament the team had experienced. But with heads going down and nerves shattered, up stepped Harry Kane with a couple of goals. The second, sublime. Captain Fantastic. Thank goodness Spurs had the foresight to send him out on loan to Bayern Munich to polish his finishing skills.

The dream in question, of course, is Keir Starmer’s. For months now, he might have spent the first few minutes of every day staring at his wall chart, plotting England’s journey so that he becomes only the second prime minister after Harold Wilson to lead his country through World Cup glory, and maintain the record of the men’s team only winning a major international tournament under a Labour government. For that alone, Keir would go down in history as one of the immortals. Guaranteed the eternal thanks of a grateful nation. A state funeral in the bag. This would be his most lasting legacy.

At 6.30pm on Wednesday, that dream was but a guttering candle. The light going out not just on the World Cup but his entire premiership. Within a quarter of an hour the World Cup at least was all back on. It had been written in Keir’s stars. He could see it all now. An easy victory against the Mexicans in the Azteca at the weekend – England were bound to adjust to the altitude in Mexico City. Then a win on penalties against Brazil in the quarter-finals, followed by a convincing victory against Argentina in the semis. Lionel who?

Keir had the rest of that week tightly choreographed. There would be the tiresome matter of Andy Burnham probably being crowned leader of the Labour party on Friday 17 July. But that would be just a minor detail. No one would notice, let alone care. He wouldn’t get to No 10 until at least the Monday, anyway.

Besides, the eyes of the whole country would be firmly fixed on the World Cup final in two days time. And he, the Great Keir, would still be the prime minister. He might even give a press conference at the same time as Andy was being announced about how Thomas Tuchel could make best use of Declan Rice and Bukayo Saka.

The weekend would be one long party. On the Saturday he would fly out to New York in the prime ministerial jet for the final. Alone. Andy would probably try to gatecrash but Keir would put his foot down. As prime minister he was guaranteed a ticket in the VIP section. But there were no plus-ones. And no getting price gouged. Staying at a top hotel and spending the evening drinking pints with the UK ambassador who would be flying in from DC. Then off to New Jersey – wearing an England replica shirt, natch – in the late morning to soak up the atmosphere in the stadium. A moment he had waited decades for.

There would be a few tedious formalities. Like having to hang around with Gianni Infantino and Donald Trump. Listening to them boasting about how much they had made out of crypto in the last year. But he would just smile. Because this was his time. In a few hours, he’d tell them they would always be losers. No one would ever love them, the way the English would love him. “Champions of the world, You’ll never sing that.”

The match itself would be surprisingly stress-free. Kylian Mbappé and Ousmane Dembélé reduced to bystanders, marked out of the game. Michael Olise would be left sobbing in the centre circle, mumbling how he always knew he should have plumped for England. Harry Kane would score twice and Jude Bellingham once with England running out comfortable 3-0 winners. And at the final whistle, Keir would run on to the pitch where he would be mobbed by the England team and told he should be the one to lift the World Cup. Handing over the gold trophy to Keir would break Trump’s heart.

What would happen next would be a complete blur. He would invite the England team to fly back home with him on the private jet. They would take selfies of one another and drink champagne. They would arrive back in the UK on the Monday morning and do an open top bus tour from the airport to Downing Street. Keir arm in arm with Harry. The perfect English summer’s day. And back at No 10, Keir would organise a penalty shoot-out in the Rose Garden with Jordan Pickford in goal. Memories to last an eternity.

At various points in the day, Keir would look at his phone to find increasingly panicky WhatsApps from Andy. “You’re meant to be standing down as PM today. I need a timetable.” Then, at about 9.30pm, he would finally walk out of the Downing Street front door to address the nation. “Dear England,” he would say. “This is the greatest day of our life. Remember it. I promised you a World Cup and I’ve delivered it. I love you all. Everyone but Andy.”

But until then, there are other legacy issues for Starmer to attend to. Politicians never sound quite so sincere as when they are apologising for something they know they aren’t responsible for. And on Thursday morning, the prime minister made a point of being in the Commons to apologise to the mothers and children affected by the forced adoptions policy imposed by both the church and the state from the end of the second world war until the mid-1970s.

It was a sombre moment and Keir was up to it. He did the country and the victims proud. The apology was long overdue, he said. The shame was ours. This was not a matter of judging the past by the standards of today. It had been wrong then and it was wrong now. It should never have happened. For the opposition, it was left to shadow chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, Alex Burghart, to apologise on behalf of the Tories. He began by thanking Starmer for coming in person. Which was more than Kemi Badenoch had done. She never apologises for anything. Least of all for things that happened before she was born.