The Prime minister’s performance at the despatch box today was the most shameful that it has ever been my misfortune to witness. Arrogant, cocky, oozing ersatz contrition with all the honour and sincerity of a snake oil salesman. He even had the nerve to turn the blame on Starmer by accusing him of sniping at the sidelines of the government’s efforts to battle with the pandemic. He ended with a joke that ended as flat as a trainer bra by dubbing him Sir Beer Korma which was heard in embarrassed silence. It was humiliating to all but the most hardcore loyalists. And there aren’t too many of them around at the moment. The anguished faces and body language betrayed an uneasiness, an acute embarrassment and bewilderment at what rubbish this baffoon was spouting. I thought poor Raab was going to be violently sick. He tried desperately to nod his head in agreement, but he just couldn’t do it. Dear old Zahawi clearly wanted to be elsewhere, whilst the Saj was immobile, dead eyed and ashen faced. I suspect that they were wondering which one of them was going to have to tour the studios in support of this dribbling incoherence. Guys, all of you will have to. Assume the position.
But what shocked me was the reaction of that knuckle dragging silverback of the Red Wall, Jonathan Gullis, who would normally be chanting, beating his chest and behaving like a total tit at this stage of the game. His face was blank. This corporal of the Johnson Orc Army, bred for loyalty and obedience, was finding it hard to compute what was happening. Don’t worry, he will be reprogrammed by the whips by the morn. ‘Delivered Brexit…..hero of Ukraine…..give us the fools and we’ll finish the job….What about those curries in Durham eh? And the rest? I have a special icicle in my heart for the cool calculating and pathologically ambitious Mrs Elphicke who has the combined charm of lady Macbeth and Cruella de Ville but without without the jokes, was one of the supporting acts. And there weren’t many of them. Most Tories sat on their hands. There lies the potential danger.
The Gray report lifts the lid on an alcohol charged culture of debauchery where the beautiful, entitled and morally bankrupt lotus eaters, the Masters of the Universe and their squeezes have run riot. Fighting, vomiting, wine on the walls with rudeness to cleaners and laughing at security staff who warned them that this was just plain wrong. An eighteen to thirties holiday without the moral rectitude in the sanctum of our government. It is not a disgrace, it is an abomination. I suppose we should be grateful that no used condoms were left on the cabinet table. The decent, honourable, rule abiding staff must hold them in total contempt.
The emails are shocking. Worries that there wouldn’t be enough booze. Warnings that they shouldn’t make to much noise because of the press conference. Er, the one warning us to obey the regulations. And Further emails that they have got away with it. Then the ultimate of sick ironies, a press conference in the very room where a giggling Allegra Stratton inadvertently gave the game away.
Johnson just can’t do humble or contrition. There is always a slight smirk. Something not quite right. Always a Flashman glint that he has got away with it. Worse, it was so insensitive. He banged on about the burden of leadership of saying farewell to departing colleagues. What about those who couldn’t say farewell to their departed loved ones? He banged on about those who were working so hard to save us from the pandemic were entitled to a work related drink. Like those care workers, those doctors, those nurses, those paramedics, those front line staff we all clapped for? Yeah, they broke the rules didn’t they? They were dancing to ABBA, vomiting and splashing wine on the operating tables and the little old dears who were dying in care homes weren’t they? Disgusting.
But have no fear. There will be grave punishments meted out. The permanent secretary will remain in office. The principal private secretary will get a juicy ambassadorship. The kids? Well, they they will be hung out to dry.
God know what the Tories will do. If they want to win the next election this guy has to go. There is no honour nor decency in this despicable man. There are no depths to which he will not plunge. He even briefed against Gray. That she ordered the meeting. He won’t even answer the question whether he suggested that she bin her report. And he slyly kept referring to her as Sue, as if they were old buddies. An old trick learned from the West Wing. She may yet get her revenge.
Johnson thinks that he has escaped to live another day. ‘Don’t worry the chaps on the privileges committee can be squared’, would no doubt be his next thoughts.
But has he? God knows. How much further as a nation can we sink?