Westminster prides itself on knowing a thing or two about power shifts. But the real tectonic plate movement this week happened off the estate, in a recording studio where Paul McCartney met Paul Mescal. And it wasn't Macca doing the teaching.
Word reaches me that the 'Normal People' star, Mescal, schooled the former Beatle on his own guitar riffs. Yes, you read that right. The man who wrote 'Yesterday' was apparently shown a thing or two by a lad from Kildare who wasn't even born when 'Let It Be' hit the charts.
Sources close to the session tell me it began as a casual chat about music. McCartney, ever the raconteur, started picking out chords. Mescal, quiet at first, then reached for a guitar. And he played. He played the opening to 'Day Tripper' with a precision that made McCartney raise an eyebrow. Then came 'Paperback Writer'. Then 'Taxman'. Each riff more obscure than the last.
The room went quiet. McCartney, to his credit, didn't bristle. He leaned in. 'You know these better than I do,' he reportedly said. No joke. No punchline. Just a quiet admission from a man who has spent sixty years as the keeper of the flame.
This is the kind of moment that sends shivers through the cultural establishment. It's not about talent. It's about reverence. Mescal, born in 1996, has absorbed the Beatles catalogue not as history but as living language. He doesn't just know the hits. He knows the B-sides, the outtakes, the forgotten bridges.
One insider described it as 'like a young Spad, fresh from Oxford, correcting a Cabinet Secretary on the procedural details of a 1970s treaty.' Except this was about rock and roll. And the Cabinet Secretary was Paul McCartney.
McCartney's camp has been gracious, confirming the encounter but downplaying any sense of competition. 'Paul was delighted to see a young artist with such deep knowledge,' a spokesperson said. 'It was a moment of genuine connection.'
But those who were there say it was more than connection. It was a passing of the torch. Or at least, a reminder that the torch is no longer the sole property of the old guard.
Mescal, for his part, has kept his counsel. No triumphant Instagram post. No coy deflection. Just the quiet confidence of a man who knows his craft. And that, in the end, is what rattled the room.
In politics, we talk about the 'kingmakers' and the 'game'. But out there in the real world, the game is simpler. It's about who remembers the riffs. And on Thursday, it was the young lad from Kildare who held the melody.
