Can I just check something before we begin, because it feels as though we’re dealing with a weight of irony that defies all known physics? Is Boris Johnson leaving British politics absolutely howling with anger because someone supposedly told him a lie? Is Boris Johnson wetting his pants thrice daily over the injustice of him being supposedly misled? Is Boris Johnson now appalled at someone else’s supposedly casual relationship with the truth? It seems, incredibly, that he is. In which case I honestly don’t think I could take this story more seriously. It’s too perfect. Boris Johnson has been Boris Johnsonned.
To the event horizon of irony, then, and the ongoing row over whether Rishi Sunak did or didn’t tell Johnson he could bend the rules to get peerages for a set of political inadequates completely devoid of ministerial achievements, and notable only for their slavish loyalty to a guy who would have betrayed them in a heartbeat if he thought there was some minuscule, fleeting advantage for himself at that moment. I note there is also some hokey cokey about why Johnson, 58, couldn’t get a knighthood for his daddy (genuinely one of the worst people in the country). But let’s face it: that one can’t even be dignified with discussion.
As for who to believe – Sunak or the leading liar of the age – I think we’ll probably have to give the current prime minister the benefit of the doubt on this one.
But arguably the most unbelievable thing of all is the Johnson allies who are still out there spouting off on how appallingly he’s been treated. Behold, an absolute cavalcade of betas, who spent the nicest weekend of the year so far crying anonymous quotes down the phone about a guy who’d cheerily have sex with their wives while they were out of town doing some boring little job for him that he couldn’t be arsed doing himself. And after reading some of their output over the past few days, I strongly suspect their only reaction to this would be to apologise for not having changed the sheets for him before they set off.
Imagine being a single-issue politician, when that issue is “defending Boris Johnson”. Over the past few days, these Cuck Norrises have served up some of the most eyebrow-raising quotes in recent memory, apparently under the impression that they are helping. Here we go with the first one from a Johnson ally, who’s got an intriguing read on Sunak. “He thinks he’s being very clever when he’s being very stupid,” this ran. “He’s like a shit batsman who completely misreads the delivery.” Yeah but is he? Is he really?
Hate to spell this one out for the anonymous Johnsonite who apparently understands neither politics nor cricket. But from my seat in the stands, Rishi Sunak is still at the prime ministerial crease, while Boris Johnson is imminently to hear the result of a ball-tampering inquiry that is widely predicted to find he brought the game into disrepute and is likely to lead to a lengthy ban from all its forms.
Yet the anonymous quotes continue, from people who simply refuse to accept that Big Dog soiled the rug. How do you like this one, in the Sunday Times, from one of Johnson’s close friends: “He is making lots of money. He needs money. He likes money. I think he’ll use the money to try to buy back all the people he lost in his life.” Amazing. As indicated, that quote, which would count as a full-scale character assassination on most people, is from one of Johnson’s close friends.
Or maybe you prefer this on-the-record effort from Tory MP and former party chair Jake Berry. “You voted for Brexit – the establishment blocked it,” Berry fumed on Saturday. “You voted for Boris Johnson – the establishment forced him out. Who is in charge here … The voters or the blob?” Thank you, Sir Jake (knighted last year by Johnson, obviously).
On the very day the Covid inquiry begins, meanwhile, there is something grotesque at the spectacle of former health minister Nadine Dorries wailing about being “heartbroken” not to get a peerage for her loyalty to Johnson. Having said that, my unpopular opinion is that Dorries’ tale is more complex than many of her detractors allow. She was born into terrible poverty, and truly horrendous things happened to her as a child. Yet she served as a nurse, and built her own business. She became a bestselling author. I have read one of her books, and the compassion for her characters shines through. But I was struck by the fact that this compassion was not discernibly part of her political persona, which had become quite the opposite – aggressive and confrontational, and increasingly so in the sole cause of defending Boris Johnson.
Had she been able to marry it with her political career, I have often thought Dorries could have made light work of huge numbers of privileged professional politicians, who she might have dismissed with a blithe: “I’ve dealt with 10,000 bedpans – what have you done?” But she wasn’t. By the end she was known simply as Johnson’s attack dog, now denied even her bone as a reward.
It will be a hard sell for anyone to see what happened to Dorries as a political tragedy, though in a way it was, just as it was for all those Johnson limited and dragged down to his level in the service of – what? What did he ever believe in, apart from himself? There is not a single member of his family or supposed friendship group who would even dream of claiming he got into politics for public service.
Contrary to one of his favourite riffs, Johnson wasn’t the mayor in Jaws – he was the shark. An obvious monster, a proven menace, and ultimately a creature who needs a big mouthful of explosives. That process currently appears to be under way. There will be a sequel, of course, just as there were several unfortunate sequels to Jaws. The shark will continue its hyper-lucrative speech tour; the shark will do a bestselling memoir; the shark will become a much-laughed-at tourist sight at a second-tier theme park. Hey – it’s a living. But for the greatest narcissist of the deep, who only made sense to himself in that one job, it is not a life. He won’t disappear from view, but Johnson is now firmly condemned to the realm of diminishing returns.
Largely yet to meet their own reckoning are that whole chunk of Tory MPs who sacrificed their judgment in the cause of promoting and enabling him, in the face of more than enough available evidence. We knew we’d all have to live in the chaos that had always attended Johnson – but as it turned out, a great many people had to die in it.
Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
Marina Hyde will join Gary Younge at a Guardian Live event in Brighton today. Readers can join this event in person
What Just Happened?! by Marina Hyde (Guardian Faber, £9.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
