The sooner Boris is gone the better

People seem surprised and a little doubting that the Prime Minister is incapable of remembering if he attended a party in his own back garden in May 2020. It does not come as much of a shock to me, seeing as he has difficulty remembering how many children he has. Beneath that albino mop resides a brain comprising plasma in a perpetual turbulent flux, like you get in one of those tokamaks used in the pursuit of nuclear fusion energy. Except Boris’s brain does not have the correct-strength magnets to hold it all in place, just a skull. As a consequence he possesses no judgment and nothing in the way of principle, no capability for strategic vision and scarcely enough competence to get himself dressed of a morning. If what follows, then, seems to be an attempt on my part to shift the blame from my old employer and exculpate him from Nightmare on Partygate Vols I-IV, please be assured this is not my intention.

The attraction of Boris Johnson to the electorate was that he seemed ‘refreshing’ for a politician, a kind of village idiot waving around a pig’s bladder on a stick but somehow conversant in Latin. For the voters, choosing Boris was akin to the good people of Hartlepool electing a man dressed as a monkey as their mayor: an entertaining change and damn the consequences. That attraction, though, has evaporated and the sooner Johnson is gone the better, otherwise one day quite soon we will wake up to discover that David Lammy is our foreign secretary — an eventuality none of us, not even close members of Mr Lammy’s family, would find desirous.

The defence for Johnson will be that while his day-to-day competence is parlous, he gets the ‘big things’ right — such as Brexit, winning an election and at last ignoring the mentalist shrieking from the medical dementors in Sage (for which we should all be grateful).