The show must go on. Less than 48 hours after the government’s welfare bill was left in tatters and a day after Rachel Reeves breaking down in tears at prime minister’s questions had caused falls in the financial markets, Keir Starmer, his chancellor and the health secretary were keen to present a clean slate.

Everything was totally normal. Couldn’t be more normal. This had been just another ordinary week in Westminster. Everyone cries during PMQs at some stage in their career. The kind of thing that happens all the time. So normal that Keir, Rachel and Wes Streeting had come mob-handed to make the same announcement. What could be more normal than that? Denial will get you a long way in politics.

First, though, Keir had popped up on the Chris Evans show on Virgin Radio to tell listeners how much he admired Rachel and how central she was to the Labour project. He and the chancellor were in lockstep. He couldn’t manage without her. She would be around long after he had drifted off the Downing Street mortal coil. She was irreplaceable. He walked in her shadow.

Was that enough hyperbole? Keir had more, if more was needed. Simply the best. Better than all the rest. It just made you wonder why he couldn’t have said a simple “yes” when Kemi Badenoch had asked him if Reeves would still be in a job come the next election. That could have saved him, the chancellor and the government a whole world of pain. Not to mention the financial markets. Just a thought.

Then to the main event. The launch of the government’s 10-year plan for the NHS. Old lags will need no reminding that previous governments have had countless of their own 10-year plans to save the NHS. All of which have ended with the NHS even further on its knees. These days it often feels as if it is on life support. But hope springs eternal and all that. Today marked the day when the NHS would start its rise from the ashes. This 10-year plan would be different. Provided Labour won the next two elections and got to see it through. What could possibly go wrong?

Wes is the ideal warmup man. Invariably chipper and upbeat. Everything is always great in WesWorld. Wes is lucky enough to be one of those who always knows he’s loved by everyone. None more so than by himself. Change is happening around us, he declared. Maybe we wouldn’t even need 10 years. Maybe he could achieve miracles sooner. It just needed people to believe.

“Now,” said Wes. I want to introduce you to the woman without whom none of this is possible. The woman who has single-handedly saved not just the whole NHS but the entire UK economy. Please say a huge thank you to … Rachel Reeves.

This was, of course, just another perfectly normal speech to show just how normal everything was. No matter that there had been no mention of the chancellor also showing up at the community health centre in Stratford, east London, when the media invitation had been sent out. The note had only promised us the health secretary and the prime minister. But sometime between sundown and sunrise, Rachel had been told she was needed onboard. To show just what a normal, tight-knit family everyone was.

You had to feel for Rachel. Here she was as Exhibit A in the battle to keep the Labour roadshow going. Politics as performance. Under the spotlight. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. A barrage of questions if she didn’t show her face sometime soon, a barrage of questions if she did. All we had been told was that she had very personal reasons for crying at PMQs and she was planning to keep them private. As if having one of the most stressful jobs in the country and not getting publicly backed by your boss was not personal enough.

Reeves had just one job. To look relaxed and smile a lot. She managed half of that. The Autocue had constant reminders. SMILE. SMILE AGAIN. SMILE BETTER. The relaxed bit was not such a success. Happy was hard. Her eyes gave her away. A bit like Gordon Brown trying to be chilled out. She would clearly rather have been anywhere but here. But she said a few dull, instantly forgettable words and it was job done. Her first ordeal after her tears over and done with. There would be questions, which she wouldn’t answer, but then she could try to move on. The next time wouldn’t be so bad.

Then came Keir. No mention of WINO. Welfare In Name Only. No mention of Wednesday’s unusual Keir and Rachel show. In this new hyper-normal reality, it was time to focus on all the things Labour had done brilliantly in its first year. Four million more hospital appointments. More houses. Trade deals. And now the 10-year NHS plan. He hated to say this but he was spoiling us.

Lives were about to be transformed. Disease prevention. Fat jabs for everyone. Here, Westminster was well ahead of the curve. You’re hard pushed to find an MP of any party who hasn’t managed to secure themselves access to a doctor who will prescribe them a course of weight loss injections.

Not forgetting the NHS app. That was going to transform everything. Here I started getting euphoric recall for Matt Hancock. He also had believed in the power of his NHS app. Maybe this new NHS app will be different from Matt’s. Pray for Matt. Last heard of giving evidence to the Covid inquiry.

Most of the media questions focused on the chancellor. What had really made her cry? Was she really OK now? Not just putting on an act? Would she really still be in a job in four years’ time? Keir tried to channel his most caring, protective self. Rachel was fine. It had been personal and would remain so. Could we just focus on the Labour success story? After the press conference, Reeves gave a short interview off camera. She was fine. Really fine. SMILE. Things had never been so normal.