Dear Conservative Party members,
How are things? Life treating you well? I can only hope that it’s being considerably kinder to your good selves than your party has been to the country. I appreciate internal disputes happen within any sizeable group, but it was a tad rude to drag the rest of us down with them. For instance I can tolerate hearing my neighbours screeching at each other through the walls every other day, but I’d be rather more peeved if they tried to resolve the tension by burning the entire street to the ground.
But not to worry, right? After all, there is a chance for redemption on the horizon – at least ostensibly.
Yes, the excruciating and protracted agony of a Tory leadership contest is reaching its inevitable conclusion – abject misery. However, there is at least a choice as to which flavour of misery to poison our nation’s future with. Ranging from the familiar to the delusional, all the way down to the plain demented; it’s less a choice as to who can lead us to a prosperous future, rather who can crash the bus in such a way that fewer passengers perish as it careens off the cliff.
However, who will become the next Prime Minister of Great Britain isn’t up to the British public – what a preposterous notion that would be. No, in fact the choice lies with you – the Tory Party membership.
Now I may have my quibbles about how approximately 130,000 potential voters isn’t especially representative of a country comprised of 65 million people but alas, that’s the hand we’ve been dealt and no amount of grumbling will change it.
That’s not to say there’s my arsenal is completely empty. Innocuous and ultimately impotent it may be, I still have the option of an impassioned plea.
And that plea is simple – for the love of all that is remotely sacred, do not elect this man:
Inevitably, we’re talking about Boris Johnson. Amongst a group of candidates that send debilitating shivers right down to the very base of my spine, Boris stands apart as the most wretched alternative of all.
After all, why wouldn’t he? A man who spent £43 million of public money to not build a bridge. A man who happily aided and abetted the potential assault of a journalist. A man who has been repeatedly sacked for dishonesty. A man who is not only reviled by those who have had the misfortune of working alongside him, but whose grasp on diplomacy is beneath that of malignant tumour.
A man who could very well be our next Prime Minister.
Despite being somewhat of a pessimist, cynicism hasn’t entirely overridden my brain. I’d love nothing more than to place my trust in the collective sanity of your membership, to be reassured that this veritable car crash of a politician will be rejected by voters and finally bring this overlong cavalcade of risible ineptitude to an inglorious yet fitting end.
I wish this were the case – it’s just a shame that it isn’t.
Pretty horrific, right? Well, if you thought that was bleak, take a look at the results of the second round:
A grim inevitability if ever I saw one, with the elimination of MP for The Uncanny Valley Dominic Raab only bolstering Boris’ position on account of there being nobody else for the lunatic wing to vote for.
So that’s it. Barring a typically Boris Johnson style implosion (which, to be fair, Boris Johnson is known for) it looks like he’s already booked his place on your final ballot – and it will be then down to you.
Though if you are to dismiss my concerns and are set on casting your vote for the bequiffed bullshitter, then I have one question to ask you – what does Boris Johnson actually stand for?
The obvious inclination would be that he stands for Brexit – at least if your only exposure to Boris Johnson is the narrative his handlers are desperate to maintain. What Boris himself actually thinks is in significant dispute; along with the question as to whether he holds any opinion of substance at all.
Keeping track of Boris Johnson’s shifting politics is as futile an endeavour as chasing a mosquito in a tsunami, shamelessly riding whatever populist wave roars over the horizon with a brazen disregard for logical consistency; forever safe in the knowledge that a deluge of loquacious waffle will create a flimsy yet effective enough veneer of plausible deniability should his capricious nature ever be called out.
When Johnson makes a declaration, a quick Google search unearths a moment when he said the opposite. If he denies he made a claim, a slight scratch beneath the surface will reveal that he actually did. An ever shifting phantasm – impossible to define and whose entire political identity is as a servant to fashionable whims and unaccountable entities who offer a leg up on the proverbial greasy pole of power.
As much as it physically pains me to admit, there is a sense of grudging admiration to be had as to the effectiveness of Team Boris’ strategy – however inexplicable its success may be. To have elevated such a dismally unremarkable chancer of no virtuous qualities to the cusp of becoming the Prime Minister of Britain is no mean feat. Deviously exploiting the paranoia of the desperate and creating a pervasive narrative of credibility in the void left behind by a failing media, who allowed box office to supersede the quest for the truth a long time ago.
In truth, this plea is somewhat redundant. The Johnson Juggernaut hasn’t been deterred by demonstrable reality, let alone the futile protestations of just one man. Hell, even his laughable cowardice in evading scrutiny as though it were the black death hasn’t caused mass realisation that the emperor has his bollocks hanging out.
He wasn’t just hidden away for fear he’d self immolate, a PR campaign simply wasn’t required. The mythos of Boris has long since been ingrained in the faithful. Built up over years of stage managed buffoonery and ruthlessly calculated cynicism, all to create an identikit politician – vacuous and malleable yet perfectly crafted to game the system.
And now he’s all set to become your leader. Our leader. The last step in a meticulously mapped out long game, finally wielding ultimate power without a single principle to work with – an entire country at the behest of a charlatan.
That is, if you don’t stop it.
But that’s down to you.Follow @grahamlithgow