These kids aren’t even asking for treats

In the last fortnight, the Government has experienced a personality shift. Just in time for Halloween, they’ve managed to seamlessly slither all slippery and snake-like out of one nightmarish costume and into something altogether more loathsome and horrific.

They now occupy a space previously reserved for cinematic villains.  As we all know, these kind of villains are usually only foiled by a superhero. No-one could have imagined the crusader would be a twenty-three year old footballer. 

The Covid pandemic has seen the UK lurch back into a world of pretence, a place of fire and brimstone where social fragmentation and economic inequality exist more than ever. Through invisible powers out of our control, we’ve been forced to survive in a sealed bubble of visors and anti-bac gel, socially distanced friendships and 10pm curfews.

Within that time, a decade-long reign from the Fat Cat Government (which we feared from the start was never likely to be overly empathetic) managed to stoop to a new low. They’ve arrived at their pièce de résistance. They’re now refusing to feed hungry children.

The Government’s apathetic refusal to extend the free school meals programme into half-term may have been catastrophic for them from a PR perspective, but the consequences are far scarier for those families below the poverty line. A Tory game plan executed to perfection. Keep the rich very rich and keep the poor at arms length, 2m apart but preferably more. Keep their kids hungry too. 

But maybe Boris Johnson hasn’t got time to feed starving children as he’s too busy trying to track down his own? 

What makes Marcus Rashford’s pursuit of this issue so irrefutable, so impressive and so influential is that it’s extracted from a place of familiarity. It derives from his own impoverished childhood before footballing stardom. Marcus Rashford the 21st century shapeshifter, weaving his way between Sportsman and Statesman as elegantly as he would between two sweaty blokes from Burnley on the Old Trafford touchline. 

His petition has over a million signatures and is rising, with restaurants and local businesses lending their support to struggling families. This petition is so staggering, not least because it shouldn’t even be required in the first place but because it’s been powered by the goodwill of a man in his early twenties. It’s also one of only five petitions that has gone to parliament and managed to attract a million signatures. It’s the first since the last general election. 

Rashford wrote to Johnson to thank him for his initial support the first time around but he shouldn’t have bothered. ‘Support’ is a word that creeps up regularly in political discourse but never carries the weight it was designed for. After all, there was no real meaningful support from the government in the first place. They were forced to U-turn in the summer as Rashford’s crusade of basic kindness and decency gathered momentum. 

Since then, the footballer’s plea for an extension of support to tackle child food poverty has been ignored by the Prime Minister. The mere fact that the issue of child hunger in the UK is even being entertained for a second time within the space of a couple of months is a terrifying reality. 

“The real superstars in this country can be found in the heart of most cities, towns and villages, working tirelessly to support our most vulnerable across the UK. As Fareshare and other food-related charities approach one of the toughest winters on record, with demand higher than ever before, it is important that I stay connected and lend my support wherever it is needed.”

These should’ve been words spoken by a Prime Minister, a person in a unique position of power. Instead, they were Rashford’s. 

When Nigel Farage suddenly appears from the bushes, like a ticket tout craving attention twenty minutes before kick off and appears as a man of compassion (albeit for a fleeting moment - sneeze and you’d miss it) then you know something far more sinister is at work. 

That previous pantomime villain argued that the government’s stance “looks mean and is wrong”. This, coming from a man who is frequently mean and is wrong about most things.

Perhaps Dominic Cummings, the nation’s sweetheart, whispered sweet nothings into Boris Johnson’s ear, assuring him that voting against food aid would be perfectly alright. Another act of devious ventriloquism that his posh, puppeteered prop would blindly obey.

The Prime Minister has other things on his mind anyway, like should he have chosen another colour to spray his RAF Voyager Plane? Would the Union Jack have looked better on the body of the plane instead of the tail? What cut of steak should he order this evening from the subsidized menu that the public have paid for?  

Perhaps he thought that when the football season resumed in September, Rashford would also become preoccupied and would let it all slide? Instead, the last week and a half has seen the Utd player travel to Paris to score a last-minute winner in a heavyweight European tie and by 8.30 am the next morning, take to Twitter and continue to do Johnson’s job for him, reminding the country that kids also need to eat. 

But Rashford’s actions pierce deeper into society than any political policy ever could. His words are mainlining serotonin into the hearts of kids in schools around the country. Kids who until now had probably wondered why their classmate could bring a packed lunch into school but they couldn’t. Now they have a professional footballer on their side. Someone who’s shared their juvenile confusion. Now they have rebuilt self-esteem to take into school with them on Monday morning. It’s only a start but it’s more than anybody else in a position of power was doing for them.