Outside of Westminster, cabinet reshuffles can be stale affairs. The who’s in and who’s out has a predictable rhythm, as half familiar faces trudge up and down Downing Street. So spare a thought for the social media editor running the Tories’ Twitter account, who has to drum up excitement for even the greyest of ministerial appointments. Today they succeeded in doing just that: by announcing incoming cabinet members as if they were football transfers.

‘NEW: Esther McVey signs for Cabinet. Done deal and starts today,’ screamed the Conservatives Twitter account. ‘AGREEMENT REACHED: Laura Trott takes up a position in the Treasury as Chief Secretary.’

Whoever is in charge seems to be trading off the success of Neapolitan journalist Fabrizio Romano who has transformed the way in which football is reported. He now has over 19 million followers on Twitter/ X and can rightfully boast to be one of the most influential journalists in the world. Romano’s bread and butter is football transfers, with every completed deal – whether it be for a second division Austrian side or the reigning Champions League Champions – with a ‘HERE WE GO’. This trademark endorsement is very much his blue steel, alongside a host of other catchphrases he employs to convey the readiness of an incoming deal.

Politics should take more notice of the world of football transfer announcements

To the casual observer his catchphrases will all mean basically the same thing, but to regulars of football Twitter there is a clear hierarchy. For example, Romano might first report that a manager ‘appreciates’ a certain player or that he is ‘on their radar’, before graduating to ‘deal on’ or ‘agreement reached’. After often protracted talks between football clubs, the payoff is an enthusiastic ‘Here we go’; or a ‘here we go pending’, when he is unprepared to totally commit to a breaking story and risk his so-far incredible reputation for getting it right. His ability to pick up on an embryonic story and inform his followers is genuinely unbelievable. He has even been known to announce a deal in progress before the player involved has even told their families.

All this considered, when I saw the Conservative X account tweet, ‘Vicky Atkins to Health, here we go!’ I nearly spat out my lunch. And not just because she is married to the chief executive of British Sugar, which seems like a little bit of a conflict of interest. And Atkins wasn’t the only one, James Cleverly competed a ‘huge move’ to the Home Office. ‘EXCLUSIVE: we have a new Party Chairman’

It’s fun, adds a bit of drama and – in the context of today’s reshuffle – diverts you away from the sad reality that a reshuffle involves people losing their jobs. It suggests a degree of self-awareness from a party which has been downtrodden of late, and devoid of humour. To extend the football Twitter metaphor, the Conservatives are in their ‘banter era’, a period of steady decline that usually befalls football clubs after a significant change in management (e.g. Manchester United). Signs of this process in action are tumbling league table positions and increasingly deranged transfer decisions, such as bringing back David Cameron (or Cristiano Ronaldo).

How Esther McVey’s appointment was announced (Credit: Getty images)

Politics should take more notice of the world of football transfer announcements. In the last couple of seasons, we have seen football club social media administrators become ever more creative in the ways that they announce players. For example, when Villarreal’s Santi Cazorla appeared as if by magic in the middle of the pitch inside a glass chamber, or when 6ft 6 Dutch striker Wout Weghorst was announced on Twitter with a clip of the heavy footsteps of a lurching T-Rex from Jurassic Park. Before the dinosaur terrorises those trapped in a battered Jeep, it cuts to images of Weghorst scoring a series of impressive headed goals.

Burnley FC have become Twitter famous for their announcement videos, including one where an overdubbed Lord Farquaad of Shrek 2 appeals to his mirror mirror on the wall to show him possible January signings. These include Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo and (eventual singing) Lyle Foster. The joke is of course that Lyle Foster – a South African striker with few topflight goals and who had previously only played in America and the Belgian league – is a minnow in comparison to two of the greatest athletes of all time.

Just imagine, instead of having to watch Beth Rigby bellow at soon-to-be secretaries of states as they walk towards the No. 10 door, we could announce David Cameron’s return by imposing his face on Han Solo’s in that clip from The Force Awakens when he re-enters the Millennium Falcon and sighs, ‘Chewy, we’re home’. Or James Cleverley could be announced as Home Secretary by the clip of now notorious Manchester United fan Andy Tate’s (no relation to the misogynist former kickboxer) famous tirade against midfielder Tom Cleverley. Although I might be getting ahead of myself, that one might be a little too niche.