Our Love Affair With Boris…..

I said I would never blog about politics.

It’s too divisive, I said. Our world is fuelled by enough hatred.

C’mon though. Quite simply, HOW COULD I NOT?

Watching events unfold this week is like hiding behind the sofa watching the scariest movie.

Compelled to watch, hands over the eyes.

Fascination with a simultaneous, omnipresent feeling of doom.

At least a scary movie ends.

In the name of the wee man, Boris….. GO.

I can’t afford popcorn, or to heat the house.

You’ve used a public health crisis (when lots of us lost loved ones and are still grieving) to give billions of our money away to your mates, donors, fraudsters and Lulu Lytle wallpaper.

I can’t take any more!

How It All Started

Journalist, author and one-time neighbour of Boris, Tony Parsons, said of his mate this week:

“Boris Johnson treats this country like a demanding, dim-witted mistress who constantly needs to be calmed down, fobbed off and placated. Promise her anything! More wine and a sliver of this delicious brie?”

Parson’s talks about living on the same street as Boris back in the Nineties.

“They loved him. He connected with people.”

Waddling across Highbury Fields with his mad, blonde mop. Shirt hanging out, looking unlike anyone else.

“Liz, Rishi, Jeremy will never campaign like Boris. They will never connect with the working class like Boris. They will never make people feel as good about themselves and their futures, as Boris does.”

Sadly, Parsons is right.

But Boris leaves a trail of devastation wherever he goes.

From sex scandals, to wallpaper, to dumped colleagues, to parties, to crass comments, to sackings, to bullying.

Whether it’s wives, lovers, editors, colleagues or voters, he has no respect or moral compass.

He has no grand vision for the country. He hasn’t the slightest interest in making Brexit work.

He stays because his ego demands it.

The Dark Triad

The most politically ambitious individuals are those who score highly on measures of the ‘dark triad’ of personality traits: Machiavellianism (strategic exploitation and deceit), narcissism (entitled self-importance) and psychopathy (callousness and cynicism).

Meet, Mr Johnson.

Manipulative, infuriatingly charming, superficial, lacking in integrity. Yet almost universally alluring.

Low in those helpful traits of agreeableness, conscientiousness, trust and trustworthiness.

It was only a matter of time before we chose ‘Get Brexit Done’ fuckboy over May, Hunt and Corbyn.

Even though we could have predicted the entitlement, vanity, lies, gaslighting and incompetence.

The misuse of the official statistics during the Brexit campaign; his comparisons to the Hulk (with no irony); his misleading of the Queen; the unlawful proroguing of parliament.

Before we even get to Covid, Partygate or broken-hearted lovers.

“He is just charming.”

Promising the world. Dazzling with grand ideas. Spend big (how much for the failed Test and Trace?). Only to crash back down to earth when a new conquest comes along. You’d think his shrivelled appendage had had enough by now.

There is quite literally no-one left to pick. Boris expelled anyone that voted against him from the Conservative Party.

Just as we fall for the charms of people we know are no good for us in our own lives, we keep letting him off with his own brand of Billy Bunter Coercive Control.

On Friday, former Speaker of the House, John Bercow slammed Boris Johnson.

“He is without doubt the worst prime minister of my lifetime. And it is not a photo-finish.”

Partygate

We don’t need to wait on Sue Gray’s report to know whether Boris attended a party at Downing Street. We already know he did.

We don’t need the report to tell us whether it was foolish and ill-judged. Yes, it was.

His statement on Partygate contained the words “I am sorry” and “I apologise.”

Like all accomplished narcissists it was a non-apology of the “I’m sorry you were offended” variety.

He acknowledges the rage of those who “think” Covid restrictions were broken.

Insists that it is “within the guidance” and offers his “heartfelt apologies” to those who don’t see it that way.

Beautiful examples of abusive coercive control.

He just didn’t appreciate how stupid the public were. “There are millions and millions of people who would not see it that way.” People who have “suffered terribly.”

The problem lies in our inability to appreciate the facts.

Even our suffering over the past two years is used against us to imply that it’s impaired our ability to think straight.

Coercive control.

• Coercive control in telling us we were incapable of understanding the guidance.

• Coercive control in assuming we are gullible enough to believe that Johnson waded through drunken people, empties and sandwich platters, but didn’t realise it was a party.

• Coercive control in thinking we’d believe it was an apology. That we should now accept it, shut up and let the internal inquiry run its course.

Where Does It End?

We all await the judgement contained in ‘lady of the moment’ Sue Gray’s report.

Remember, this is a prime minister who has excelled at shrugging off all previous reports, from Lord Geidt’s inquiry into the Downing Street refurbishments and ‘that wallpaper,’ to Sir Alex Allan’s inquiry into Priti Patel’s bullying.

My guess?

Just when we need trust in Government, validation of our grief and anger, compassionate systems and cross-party leadership – Boris is going nowhere.

The scary movie rumbles on.

He has a pitifully weak Cabinet and no-one capable, credible, willing nor visionary enough to stick the knife in.

It would take Rishi Sunak to have a serious ‘et tu, Brute’ moment.

Labour would rather face a discredited Johnson than Sunak or Truss at the next election. I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.

Millionaire Sunak has no charm. Liz is dim.

Boris, his bluster and his twinkle will rally and see this pass.

I’m rooting for you Keir, but a likeable, tousle-haired charmer prepared to look you in the eye, smile and offer a ‘better life to the desperate’ and the ‘world for a vote’ is a bloody dangerous opponent.

As they say, a week in politics is a lifetime.

I’m not sure my nerves can take much more.

Popcorn, Brutus. I need popcorn.

Someone give that man a knife.

And tousle Keir’s hair a bit. See if that works.