In top form for exciting Tory manifesto launch at Silverstone – only to find a lifeless room

Vroom, vroom! A sign at the Silverstone Conservative manifesto launch read “excited and ready to go”, and if the Liberal Democrats had hosted the event they would have risen to the occasion. Imagine Ed Davey walking the track dressed as Evel Knievel. With jelly on his head.

Rishi being Rishi, he revealed his “encrypted” document in a lifeless room that could have been anywhere – without a Ferrari for Penny to drape herself over (what a waste!) or even a view of the racetrack.

Children in white sneakers distributed manifestos. Hackers took to them like ducks to bread.

Sadly, this was not the game changer we all hoped for. Seventy-six pages and no mention of hanging.

The press had been collected from Milton Keynes Central in a coach, dropped off at the edge of a brownfield site, walked half a mile to the venue and arrived to find MPs and party members – but no biscuits.

Apparently Brad Pitt was filming a movie nearby. However, all we saw was former Apprentice Ryan-Mark Parsons, the posh reality TV star who was probably gargling champagne.

Every year, the pool of conservative celebrities becomes shallower and shallower. We are far from Lulu and Bob Monkhouse.

Gillian Keegan, the notoriously foul-mouthed Education Secretary, kicked off the speeches.

She grew up poor (too poor to afford a swear box) and revealed that as a girl, “I never dreamed I would be here presenting the Tory manifesto”.

One shudders to think of the very strange child who did it – and my eye chanced to fall on Michael Gove.

Govesy applauded brilliantly as Ben Houchen spoke next – the last Tory mayor in existence; so popular, and therefore rare, that there are plans to pot it up and display it at the British Museum.

It was Houchen’s pleasure to present a PM with “energy” and “passion”.

Rishi came out to sell us tax cuts, “bold action,” a “clear plan.”

But if the lips said “sound money,” the eyes cried “please don’t leave me.”

Rishi’s eyebrows are set pleadingly at twenty minutes to four; the students are red, like after crying because of the elections.