To Boris, politics is not about service but about survival, and the British people a tool to manipulate to settle internal party scores.
Writing about Boris Johnson sometimes feels like adding to a very long thesaurus entry. Buffoon, creep, liar, adulterer, reckless adventurer, lazy opportunist. He has spawned his own genre of articles, in which various authors tear their hair out in eloquence born of frustration that a man with such a long proven record of mendacity, duplicity, dishonesty and careerism can survive and indeed, thrive. The chorus of the castigation of the Boris became a protest song, comforting in its catharsis but plaintive in its despair that despite the blatant injustice of the occupation under his dysfunctional regime, we could not shake off his yoke.
And now he is gone, and the celebrations are muted, because he never got his comeuppance. He was not overthrown or punished: he merely saw another opening in his ophidian career and took it. We’ve seen this horror movie before, where the villain is vanquished only to rise again, bloodied and mortally wounded and yet still impossibly alive, racing towards you while gurgling in Latin.
He is not gone, merely resting, calculating. He is a man who survives by harnessing the fumes of others, the momentum of events, never knowingly taking a leap into the abyss. David Davis resigned, and Boris only saw cover for his own rat run out of the trap that he himself had laid by allying himself with a hard Brexit. Without even a consultation with Davis, who sighed with “regret” when informed of Boris’s resignation live on LBC radio, Johnson saw a political crisis looming against the backdrop of a poisoning death and Donald Trump’s arrival in the UK on Friday, and decided that this was the time to …read more
Source:: New Statesman