How are you enjoying the Conservative party’s slow-motion regicide? Maybe call it a ledge-icide, as banter king Boris Johnson increasingly looks to be in a tonne of trouble. Or, as he prefers it, a ton of trouble, which is even heavier and can crush anyone without a ruthlessly consistent abs and core programme. He’ll be fine, mate!
Indeed, there remain plenty who think Big Dog should be allowed to keep peeing on the rug that some donor or other bought him. As one Downing Street source told LBC this morning, the Tory malcontents have “no alternative leader, plan or vision”. Exactly. Why not stick with what they have: a terrible leader, who has no plan or vision?
I’m kidding, obviously. The prime minister – who has achieved precisely nothing in office bar a Brexit deal worse than Theresa May’s, which he is now trying to torpedo – has got pounds of vision. Ounces of it! Pints! A whole bushel worth of phoned-in gibberish designed to get him through a single news cycle. Two, tops. The imperial measures nonsense is all part of the “bonfire of red tape”, which will certainly be something to cluster round in lieu of half the nation being able to afford central heating this winter.
For the record, nine “bonfires of red tape” have been announced since Johnson became prime minister, suggesting police should investigate this arsonist for serial insurance fraud. Of course, like the Springfield Tire Fire (est. 1989), the “bonfire of red tape” has in fact been burning continuously for even longer than that, with the flames fanned every time a Conservative prime minister is up the creek. Which, given the past few years, has been exceedingly often.
The latest conflagration seems to be part of the play-to-your-base initiative previously described as “Operation Red Meat”. On reflection I don’t hate this as a name for what’s happening to Johnson. That painful moment when you think you’re going shark fishing, but only belatedly realise you’re the chum. As one cabinet minister put it, the imperial measures policy is “absolutely bananas”, while another cabinet minister apparently observed mildly, “no idea which muppet had come up with that idea”. Certainly not Count von Count. The whole thing has very strong Elmo energy, being an attempt to ruin something that doesn’t need ruining.
Not that metric revolt is the prime minister’s only well-thought-through initiative. Johnson also plans to reduce the civil service by a fifth, as yet unaware that this can only impact frontline service delivery ahead of a cost of living crisis and possible recession. Today, the prime minister finally got round to telling the civil service about this, instead of the Daily Mail readers to whom he first confided the information. “As many families and businesses now look at how to reduce their costs in a period of higher global inflation,” Johnson writes to all civil servants, “it is right that we do the same”. Odd way to put it. Will people be reducing the headcount of their families during this period of higher global inflation? Maybe No 10 could lead by example, announcing that Johnson will be making a 20% reduction in the number of love-children he acknowledges.
Speaking of matters domestic, though, let’s turn to accounts of Mr and Mrs Johnson’s “chaotic” stewardship of Chequers, the prime minister’s country retreat. Carrie’s chatelaine skills are called particularly into question, with the Times reporting some kind of character clash with the former housekeeper, which the prime minister’s wife denies. There seem to have been disciplinary proceedings against this housekeeper, though these were subsequently dropped and she left with a payoff and an NDA in 2020. Mesmerisingly, it all seems to have hinged on her alleged “inappropriate handling of a personal item” found in Boris Johnson’s bathroom, which she denied. According to the Times, “the nature of the item is unknown”. So … I’ll leave it with your subconscious.
Meanwhile: Carrie. Quite a return for this character. As many will have noticed in recent months, Carrie had been entirely written out of the show – a bit like Chuck Cunningham, Richie and Joanie’s elder brother, who was judged not to have “worked” after season two of Happy Days and was never mentioned again. Not so with Downing Street. Carrie has come roaring back into the franchise in recent days, with Sue Gray and the Met’s failure to explore her so-called Abba party with “the gays” marking a stunning return to form for the establishment. Hats off to all involved, and I’ve no interest in spoiling the moment by suggesting that Chequers has always felt a very, very unexplored corner of Partygate.
Also rumoured to be taking care not to spoil things is 1922 Committee chairman Graham Brady, who some believe is waiting till after the Queen’s platinum jubilee to announce that the threshold of letters calling on Johnson to do one has reached the magic number of 54. That remains nothing more than speculation. Even so, do take the opportunity to refamiliarise yourself with Graham, whose facial colouring always suggests he has just this minute finished shouting at some youths to move on from a bus stop. Touring the repository of Mad Shit We’ve Seen Over The Past Few Years this morning, I suddenly recalled that in 2019 Graham resigned the chairmanship of the 1922 Committee with a view to launching a leadership bid of his own. He was reinstated as chairman a few months later, following this unsuccessful loan spell at relevance.
For now, known letter writers range from big hitters like former attorney general Jeremy Wright to the likes of Andrew Bridgen, who practises the withdrawal method of politics, having submitted a letter then rescinded it once already this year. My favourite two communiques so far come from Nickie Aiken and Andrea Leadsom. Nickie’s missive fails to call for Johnson’s resignation, suggesting the prime minister should instead call a vote of no confidence. This approach is called suicide-by-cop-out. Andrea’s absolute word salad, meanwhile, feels like a letter masquerading as a statement. Certainly the biggest Leadsom-related letter shambles since Johnson’s 2016 leadership bid, when he patted the missive to Andrea that was in his own pocket and assured aides that “Andrea’s onboard”. Unfortunately, he then forgot to pass the letter on to her, leading to the hilarious chain of events which ultimately saw his bid implode.
Needless to say, he had the last laugh. Or did he? It’s certainly at least possible that we are in for some no-confidence merriment sooner rather than later. But even then, it’s all down to Conservative MPs alone – The Most Sophisticated Electorate In the WorldTM. All the great British public will be able to do is press our noses against the glass once more and behold the tragic conflict of disloyalties with which they never, ever seem to stop wrestling.
Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
