Once, the Labour Party stood tall in the British political landscape—a defiant force of opposition that was loud, principled, and occasionally radical. Enter Keir Starmer, who promised to rescue Labour from the ideological “Corbynceps” fungus that some believed had taken root under Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership. With sharp suits and measured tones, Starmer vowed to restore order and respectability to the party. A harmless reformer, right?

But like any parasite, the real danger lay in his quiet persistence.

Starmer’s first move was to neutralize Labour’s ideological immune system, purging the most vocal members of the party’s left wing. Soon after, Labour began behaving differently. The infection became evident when Starmer backed away from nationalizing public utilities—policies once integral to Labour’s identity. Electricity, railways, water? Too “1990s.” Labour, like an insect infected by Cordyceps, abandoned its instincts. It began parroting lines you’d expect to hear at a Conservative Party conference: “We have to make tough decisions” (because apparently, billionaires are on the brink of poverty if taxed fairly).

Then came the retreat on welfare spending. Universal Credit? Reforms to help the poorest? Starmer’s Labour would “consider” these issues, but no promises would be made. The host—still hopeful this was all for the greater good—began climbing higher, compelled by its new master to promote policies more palatable to the center-right media than to the voters who once craved radical change.

The crowning infection? A U-turn on climate pledges. The party that once championed a Green New Deal is now retreating from its net-zero targets and clean energy investment. Labour is scaling back plans for a greener economy, even as the planet burns. In true Cordyceps fashion, the party marches toward its doom, mouthing platitudes about “balancing priorities” while the environment is sidelined. Upsetting the fossil fuel lobby, it seems, is off the table.

Then there’s Starmer’s immigration stance. In what many would call a betrayal, he announced tougher immigration controls, borrowing rhetoric previously reserved for the likes of Nigel Farage. “Tough on crime, tough on immigration, and tougher on anyone who thought socialism was still in the room!” By this point, Labour is no longer recognizable, completely overtaken by Starmer’s parasitic influence. The party nods along as if austerity cuts and limited housing plans are precisely what the people had demanded.

And what of Brexit? Starmer’s Labour has avoided taking any meaningful stance on it. You’d think the party that once championed Europe would offer some way to reverse the damage. But no, under Starmer, Labour has been convinced to forget its pro-European roots. Like a zombified insect, the party mutters, “We need to move on,” while avoiding any discussion of rejoining the EU or repairing Britain’s damaged international standing.

Just when you thought Starmer’s parasitic takeover was complete, another curious event emerged: the Chagos Islands controversy. In a move that perplexed even his supporters, Starmer quietly supported the decision to hand over the Chagos Islands to Mauritius. Once a strategic military base for the UK and the U.S., the islands were essentially pawned off, with little regard for their geopolitical significance in the Indian Ocean—a key point of influence between East and West. Keen to avoid any international friction, Starmer’s Labour accepted this development with little more than a shrug, sacrificing national security for the sake of optics.

To distract from this blunder, Starmer unveiled his vision for the nation: The Five Missions. Labour, now thoroughly hollowed out by its fungal overlord, embraced these as if they were bold, new ideas. Starmer promised to grow the economy, fix the NHS, improve education, tackle crime, and address climate change. But like any parasitic host, these are empty promises—vague enough to sound inspiring, yet lacking the substance or commitment needed for genuine reform. “Grow the economy,” Labour mumbles, while protecting the wealthy from increased taxes. “Fix the NHS,” it chants, even as Starmer dodges any clear plans for funding.

The public has begun to notice. Voters once loyal to Labour are increasingly disillusioned, many feeling betrayed by Starmer’s drift away from the party’s core values. Some polls suggest that a growing number of traditional Labour supporters are considering alternatives, highlighting just how far the party has strayed from its roots.

Internal tensions within Labour add to the chaos. Discontent is brewing among the left wing, which views Starmer as the embodiment of a hollowed-out, centrist machine. Grassroots activists and former Corbyn supporters are growing louder, questioning whether the party can ever regain its revolutionary spirit—or whether it’s now just a pale imitation of its former self.

Meanwhile, history casts a long shadow. Labour was once synonymous with the fight against injustice and colonialism. But now, under Starmer’s rule, the party seems more concerned with political survival than with moral integrity. The ghosts of Tony Blair’s Third Way and Margaret Thatcher’s reshaping of the Conservative Party loom large, reminding us of the perils of sacrificing principles for power.

As the infection seems complete, the final punchline arrives. In this absurd world of Labour under Starmer, one must wonder: what’s next? Perhaps a radical embrace of the monarchy? Or a manifesto to build luxury housing on the ruins of the NHS?

Once a champion of public ownership, social justice, and geopolitical awareness, Labour has ascended to a platform indistinguishable from its former adversaries. Center-right policies drift out like spores, infecting the broader political discourse with Starmer at the helm—smiling quietly, promising a new dawn.

But when the dust settles, one must ask: what happens to the host once it’s served its purpose? Will Starmer move on to infect the broader electorate next, convincing them that voting for Labour is a vote for change when, in reality, they’re just being led to a precipice of political sameness? The answer, like any parasitic infection, remains to be seen.