The finer gradations of a reshuffle can be the source of ministerial jealousy

Who is up, who is down, who is sideways and who has got the country house? John Rentoul examines the ministerial appointments

A bit of a squeeze to fit the new team around the table (AP)

Ministerial reshuffles are raw politics, and hold a special fascination for those of us who report and comment on Westminster. Over the past few days, we have seen a prime minister possibly at the peak of his power use it ruthlessly.

Liz Truss has been built up and Rishi Sunak reminded who is boss; Michael Gove has been put in an exquisitely difficult job, charged with “levelling up” the country when no one knows what it means; and ministers have been sacked as if to encourage those who remain, telling them that loyalty is not enough: delivery is all. (This is rich coming from Boris Johnson, whose record of delivery as a minister is thin – but no one said politics was fair.)

But one of the added entertainments of reshuffles is the light they shine on the obscure corners of our constitution. The grace-and-favour houses are often a lively subplot of ministerial changes. This time it is Chevening, the country house in Kent traditionally used by the foreign secretary. When William Hague was foreign secretary, he had to share it with Nick Clegg, the deputy prime minister, so Truss will probably have to share it with Dominic Raab. With 15 bedrooms, they needn’t get in each other’s way.