LIKE Monty Python’s parrot, Boris Johnson’s post as Prime Minister has expired, he has gone to meet his creator, he is stiff, deprived of life, he rests in peace, he grows daisies, his metabolic processes are now from ancient history he threw down the bucket, shuffled that deadly husk – joined, as John Cleese would say, “the invisible bleeding chorus”. Johnson’s prime minister is a former prime minister in every way except name.
It is only a matter of time before the Conservative Party sends this the least and most dangerous prime minister. After the catastrophic by-election defeat in North Shropshire – with a 34.2% swing to the Lib-Dem in a once-secure seat that had been in Tory hands since the 1830s – Johnson was done. “Another bang and it is out,” Tory MP Sir Roger Gale said. How long before Johnson swings and misses again? Tonight? Tomorrow? Monday morning?
It’s a joke and a loser now, and the Conservatives – fond of a bit of regicide – will finish it off whenever they want. There’s a nice dramatic unity to that, given that Johnson kidnapped the Queen – Theresa May – and stole her throne from her.
It can be nice to laugh at the impending demise of Johnson – that amoral clown who tore Britain apart with lies, corruption and innate utter uselessness. Still, there is a much darker side to what’s going on right now. Ask yourself: how much ruin will Johnson accumulate while awaiting his inevitable defenestration?
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