How things change. You wouldn’t have caught Ed Miliband or Jeremy Corbyn having a love-in with Tony Blair at his thinktank’s annual Future of Britain conference. Then again, I doubt they would have got an invite. It would have been a bit like chucking a slab of kryptonite into the mix. No one would have got out alive. Keir Starmer is a different breed of Labour leader. A man with an eye on the Downing Street prize. A pragmatist who will do whatever it takes to win an election. Someone who will happily pivot from being a paid-up member of Corbyn’s shadow cabinet to dumping his former boss like a stone. Who recognises politics is a grubby game, one where allegiances can be short-lived and all that matters is winning. There’s nothing to be gained by being on the right side of the argument if you’re left twiddling your thumbs on the opposition benches. The current Labour leader looks at Blair and forgives a lot. If not everything. He doesn’t see a former prime minister who dragged the country into an illegal war with Iraq and developed a messiah complex. He just sees a man who broke new territory for Labour by winning three general elections on the bounce. You can forgive a lot for that. And what Starmer wouldn’t give to do the same. Both understand that the key to success is not expecting the electorate to come closer to you. It’s getting the party closer to the electorate. Even if a few principles get trashed along the way. A step too far for some on the left. But a necessary step along the way for Blair and Starmer. They are a similar breed. So they are more than happy to share a stage together, basking in each other’s reflected glory. They both somehow validate each other. They look into one another’s eyes and feel the power and the pain. The knowledge that the sacrifices were worthwhile. It’s almost as if the years between 2010 and 2019 never happened. Hell, more than that. We could almost forget Gordon Brown as well. The true bloodline runs from Blair to Starmer. The divine right of lawyers. So Blair didn’t have to think twice about inviting Starmer to play the closing set at his conference. And Starmer didn’t have to think twice about accepting. They are peas from the same pod. Blair needs Starmer to prove to himself that he’s still alive. That all those wilderness years were worthwhile. That he still means something. And Starmer needs Blair as a signpost to the future. That after four election defeats, there is a clear path to victory. There are differences, though. Blair had the politician’s invaluable gift of sounding plausible even when he wasn’t. He understood the rhythm of language and could make an audience listen. Believe, even. If only for the duration. Keir is the precise opposite. He often doesn’t sound that plausible even when is. Rather, he has the knack of making you doze off. It shouldn’t matter that he isn’t a natural public performer – and mostly it doesn’t – but on occasions like this it does. There’s an absence where there should be passion. This should have been a triumph. A victory lap in front of a home-team audience. The last hurrah of the summer ahead of two likely byelection victories and some well-deserved down time. Instead it was a bit of a snooze. A 10-minute stump speech that somehow felt twice as long. And by the end you had almost instantly forgotten all about it. Not that what he said was bad or wrong. It would have been hard to argue with any of it. Just that it all felt a bit off-the-peg. As if it could have been said by anyone at any time. Starmer began by thanking Tony for his support and complimenting him on the ideas coming out of the conference. He must have been watching a different event to me. I followed most of the day and can hardly remember a thing anyone said. Maybe it was the venue, not Keir, after all. It was a tough sell. Starmer was trying to make the case for optimism, but there was little hope to be found in what he said. He talked again of his five missions but we kept coming back to the reality that the Tories had left the country in a total mess. The Labour leader would do his best with the inheritance but all he – all anyone – could promise was to safeguard the economy and not screw things up. He shouted out “growth, growth, growth” as an echo of Blair’s “education, education, education” but 2024 wasn’t going to be a 1997 moment. There was none of the belief that things could only get better. Just, fingers crossed, that they didn’t get any worse. Things picked up when Blair joined Starmer on stage for a 15-minute conversation. Tony looked a bit overwhelmed at first. Teary, even. Starmer’s mere existence is the closest he has got to a thank you from Labour for two decades. “How do you find PMQs,” he asked. “To be honest, I’m a bit out of practice,” said Keir. That was more like it. Something unscripted. From the heart. Being permanently on message may win you elections but it’s tiring on the soul. There were no tough questions for Starmer. Blair wasn’t there to make life difficult for his successor. Rather, they both seemed slightly in awe of one another. Tony ran through all Keir’s greatest hits, Keir did the same for Tony and then they shared their experiences of making Labour electable and fit to govern. Along with them both momentarily forgetting Liz Truss had been prime minister. If only we all could. The closest we got to controversy was when Starmer alluded to his decision to stick with the two-child benefit cap. “We have to show we are fiscally responsible,” he said. “That we can be trusted not to make unfunded spending promises.” Er, yes. But there’s a difference between Tory tax giveaways to the rich and helping those most in need. And the extra cost was only £1bn. Last week, Rishi Sunak found £5bn down the back of the sofa to fund the public sector wage rises. All it would have needed was Starmer to say he would get rid of the cap if he could. But he didn’t. And Blair wasn’t going to push him. So the conversation between Labour Past and Labour Present drifted on. Eventually, Tony called time. “We’ll be in good hands with you,” he said. A healing of sorts had taken place. Depraved New World by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £16.99) is available to pre-order. To support The Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.