Nice work if you can get it. Boris Johnson has just returned from holiday. Not that it would much matter if he had stayed in Slovenia. Because it’s not as if he’s doing much at home. Thank god we’re not in a cost of living crisis with fuel bills now set to top £4,200. Then we really might be up shit creek while the paddle watched Netflix.
Most prime ministers might have done things rather differently. Seen out their last few weeks in office at No 10 with dignity and go on vacation in September. To protect their legacy if nothing else. But the Convict sees things through the prism of his own narcissism. His legacy has always been about his own self-gratification. So he takes his pleasures where and when he feels like it. He wants it. He takes it. He won’t pay the price. That’s for Lords Brownlow and Bamford: bank-rollers in chief to Team Johnson.
And right now the Convict can’t be bothered to do anything. Not even a photo op. So we’re left with a half-asleep government. Drifting pointlessly around in decreasing circles. The Sargasso regime. No one is even pretending to be in charge. Too difficult. Too hot. Though arguably an improvement on what we might have had if even Nadhim Zahawi had been awake. And in place of responsible adults, the UK has been blessed with the tedium of the Tory leadership psychodrama. Hard to believe we still have the best part of a month of it to go. Far worse that we will have to live through it. Where is the induced coma when you need it?
It’s almost as if the country is being gaslit by the Tories. That we are being presented with two possible leaders, both of whom are completely unreliable narrators of their own campaigns. In the blue corner we have Liz Truss. One day she says something, the next
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