Less than a fortnight left of the Tories’ 14-year general election campaign, and they’re panic-packing their five stages of grief into one big emotional carry-on for the holidays. Bafta nominee Rishi Sunak choppered out to a North Sea oil rig, scrambled into hi-vis and earnestly insisted the Conservatives could win this election. Elsewhere Tory MPs got angry with HQ for pulling resources from their doomed constituencies, and indignant at getting blamed for things Conservative governments had done years before Brexit – it wasn’t fair! Others were bargaining behind the scenes for a role in a new, batshit opposition. Others weaponised their depression, darkly warning that if Labour got a supermajority it would serve us all right. At least the 77 stage-five Tory MPs standing down have accepted reality and are cheerfully contemplating a life outside politics.
Boris Johnson surfaced, as though waking from some terrible dream in which he’d single-handedly steered an 80-seat Tory majority into an extinction-level event. Yeah, Big Dog was back, scent-marking his way across social media. He appeared to be in some sort of pantry, urging people to vote Insert Name Here for Select Constituency. He looked even rougher than usual, as if he’d come straight from breakfast at Wetherspoon’s, his big bollocky bilious face ballooning with quease beneath the trademark multi-directional hairdo. Which looks adorable on anyone younger than eight but, let’s be honest, really fucking creepy on a 60-year-old. Still, at least he’s putting in the effort, it’s not as if, oh, his memoirs. The book’s called Unleashed, which is how we all want big dogs in our public spaces, isn’t it – crapping everywhere, ignoring sexual boundaries and worrying toddlers. HarperCollins says it will be “honest … ” ha ha stop, what?
