Picture the scene: Sir Keir Starmer, tie askew and shoulders slumped like a man who has just discovered the milk's off, signs off on a fresh batch of ermine for his chums. Among the two dozen lucky souls elevated on 16 July 2026 sits Sadiq Khan, the London mayor who once preached that the House of Lords was an affront to democracy and really ought to be abolished. Now he will perch on those red benches himself, drawing a fat salary for scrutinising legislation while still running the capital. One can almost hear the Lords' oak panelling creaking with ironic laughter.
The list, dressed up as cross-party consensus rather than a resignation honours binge, hands 16 peerages to Labour faithful, five to Liberal Democrats, three to Conservatives and a couple of crossbenchers for decorative balance. June Sarpong and Christina McAnea join the merry throng. The King has graciously signified his intention to confer these life peerages of the United Kingdom. How very constitutional. How very convenient.
The flip-flop that defines modern Labour
Khan was knighted only last year for "political and public service", a phrase that now reads like a knowing wink. In 2022 his party trumpeted plans to reform or replace the upper house with something shinier and more "representative". Yet here we are, watching the very people who denounced it as undemocratic clamber aboard the gravy train with the enthusiasm of toddlers spotting an ice-cream van. The disconnect is not mere hypocrisy; it is the operating system.
One moment they rail against unelected power. The next they are expanding it, stuffing the chamber with reliable votes and friendly faces. Starmer's government has shown a particular fondness for this trick. The total number of peers he has appointed since taking office has already raised eyebrows. This final flourish feels less like dignified departure and more like clearing the last of the drinks cabinet before the bailiffs arrive.
Starmer's government has shown a particular fondness for this trick.
Watch the mannerisms and you see the farce in full colour. Khan, midway through a third term as mayor and wisely steering clear of any ministerial role under the expected new leadership of Andy Burnham, accepts his coronet with the modest air of a man who has simply been recognised for reducing violent crime, cleaning the air and delivering the Elizabeth Line. A government source calls it "thoroughly deserved". His own spokesperson murmurs that he is "honoured" and will of course keep focusing on London. The script writes itself: humble servant of the people reluctantly accepts lifelong legislative influence.
Nigel Farage has called it the uniparty writ large, an upper house rendered even less representative by the very people who lecture us about democracy. For once the blunt Yorkshireman has captured the national squint. When critics of the Lords become its newest ornaments, the institution does not gain legitimacy. It simply confirms what many already suspect: that for all the lofty rhetoric about modernisation and accountability, the game remains the same. Reward your own. Cushion your exit. Maintain the club.
