'Boris Johnson is not the problem - it's the people who still say they like him'
They say you get the politicians you deserve.
Well, Britain, I hope you're proud of yourselves.
Whether you're celebrating the downfall of a charlatan or praying he'll battle his way back to the public stage, that Boris Johnson became Prime Minister, that he destroyed faith in every institution he ever set foot in, that he is earning millions to talk crap about the things he broke, is on you.
Specifically, it's on all those people who said, and still say: "Oh, he's just more FUN." It's on we journalists who allowed him to soak up our column inches. It's on politicians so lacking in spit or confidence they rowed in behind someone who had plenty. It's you, it's me, it's all of us: we did this.
"Bugger, that's the one excuse I didn't think of" (AFP via Getty Images)But the fact we can read or write those words automatically puts us ahead of him. We have self-doubt, self-awareness, a conscience that asks us, eventually, if we contributed to the broken crockery currently crunching beneath the nation's feet. And yes, we did: we didn't just let the bull into the china shop. We gave him hobnailed boots and told him to have at it.
Teachers, civil servants and train drivers walk out in biggest strike in decade
For what Boris has done is precisely what he said, and we knew, he would. He shook up the Establishment. He took us out of Europe. He relied on Churchillian rhetoric without bothering to acquire any Churchillian skills.
As a young journalist, he was fired for making up quotes. As a Brussels correspondent he lied, repeatedly, about the European Union. Under his editorship at the Spectator, it became known as the Sextator. He had to apologise to Liverpool. He was forced to resign from the Conservative front bench after lying about his mistress' multiple abortions. He denied the existence of a lovechild, only for his ex-lover to subsequently lose a court battle over confirming the fact.
He was a shocking journalist, a poor husband, a horrifyingly gaffe-prone politician. He lied in print, in speech, to people's faces, and he tried to shirk and avoid and dodge and deny the consequences of every single action he ever took.
He was, in short, a perfect advertisement of all the qualities he once insisted could be seen in the children of single mothers: parents who shirked responsibility and a child who never matured past the urge to suckle on the public teat.
"Mmm, taxpayer bitty" (Getty Images)When that man ran for Parliament, we all knew what we were getting. We all agreed he was interesting to watch on Have I Got News For You, but you'd never let him into your family.
But then we did just that. He became head of 25million households overnight, for no other reason than that he kept telling us everything was someone else's fault. He took control of your finances, your Parliament, your constitution, and your Queen, and it can hardly have come as a surprise that he mistreated every last one of them.
Parliament became, unofficially, pro-rogue: sex pests could get away with it, mates could get lucrative contracts, the weirdest, oddest fringes of all parties moved to the centre and had their moment in the spotlight. His resignation honours list was so dishonourable that half of them - HALF, an unprecedented amount - were refused access to an institution that is happy to have Jeffrey Archer as a member.
It meant that politicians who had never been in government suddenly held the levers of power. People who had never suffered scrutiny suddenly had journalists checking the receipts. People who hadn't needed to spend a single second of their political lives worrying about morality won £100,000 a year jobs in which morality mattered. It was like making Dennis the Menace headteacher, or putting Dr Evil in charge of the NHS.
"Nadine Dorreis minister for culture? Spiffing! I'll apologise to Liverpool again later" (nadinedorries/Instagram)Of COURSE they cocked it all up. And while the responsibility is ultimately theirs, it also shows something is fundamentally wrong with us.
There are people who will say Boris was tried by a kangaroo court, even though it was an investigation he began. They'll say it was undemocratic, even though it was voted for by Parliament. They will say he confounded his critics, even though the truth is he knew he'd lose a vote in Parliament on his suspension, and a vote in his constituency on a recall. Some are even claiming he could be Tory leader again, even though it was plainly beyond him, too much like hard work, and the committee's punishment awaits whenever he sets foot back in the Commons.
Greggs, Costa & Pret coffees have 'huge differences in caffeine', says report
We are too ready to believe. Journalists are too quick to give you their take without giving you the background. Voters are too quick to say that if someone is less fun, they're less electable. This country hasn't been run by a vaudeville villain since King John, and now we generally let the Royals be a soap opera and let politicians do the boring and difficult bits. And if ruling us is difficult and boring then I'd far rather Theresa May, Rishi Sunak, Keir Starmer or Gordon Brown do it, as uninspiring as that may be, then a lying liar who lied on his way in and on his way out.
Lies matter. They matter to our global allies, because they don't trust us. They matter when we do trade deals, because they don't think we'll stick to it. They matter in war, in peace, at elections, between elections, during Budget decisions and, yes, when someone says he had no idea that event with Abba music and free-flowing champagne could be possibly be described as something other than a reasonably-necessary work event.
It matters to all those who didn't hold a loved one's hand. It mattered to the Queen, who sat alone while in Westminster they were frotting on the office photocopier. And it matters, most, to all those who say today: "I still like Boris, but I don't trust any of 'em."
The reason you don't trust them is because he brought them in his wake. He contaminated your country, and you still think he's fun; it's like saying John was a lying, thieving king who throttled his own nephew to death before witnesses, but at least he wasn't dull. There's a reason we never had John II, you know, and it's the same one we won't see Boris make a comeback.
He has gone. There is no return route to power. He cannot be Tory leader because the Tories know the person who once got them elected now sends polls tumbling. He cannot bypass the privileges committee if he returns to Parliament, especially in Opposition with a Labour majority against him. And it's too unwelcome, too itchy, too uncomfortable for him to be held to account. He loves a camera and he likes his words, and he'll end his career as he began - an unethical, untruthful journalist, a legend in his own lunchtime, throwing brickbats from the bar and stirring up trouble.
It's about all he's good at, although he can't even do that without getting caught out. The real worry is us: can we recover our attention spans, our reason, our general sense of whether something is a) cricket or b) not cricket?
I'm not sure. But I do know that Boris would tell you some old bollocks about cricket at this point, and that's probably where he's best left.
Read more similar news:
Comments:
comments powered by Disqus
