So he’s gone, in a flurry of self-pity, narcissism and baseless accusations. It was typical, classic, un-classy, purely puerile Boris Johnson. Of course he thinks he’s the victim. So no apology. No acceptance of responsibility. No mention of those who abided by the rules when he and his mates flouted them. Nothing but overweening self-regard.
No courage, either. He didn’t dare face the Commons (with its 64-seat Tory working majority), or his voters in his constituency. His attack on the committee was especially cowardly. They have abided by their mandate at every turn, going out of their way to ensure due process and a fair hearing, even being advised by Sir Ernest Ryder, the former head of the tribunal service. But Johnson doesn’t like their conclusion, so he tore up the rulebook in yet another hissy fit (remember the Owen Paterson debacle?), attacking the process despite the fact that he made no complaint when it was set up, when his loyal (but unrewarding) amanuensis Michael Ellis told the Commons that Johnson had “no concerns with this issue being considered by the privileges committee”. To be clear, the terms of the reference, the members of the committee and its chair, were all agreed unanimously by the whole House when he was prime minister. The rest is sour grapes.
