New Right Wing, Bannonite Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, did a quick tour of the “Orient Juxta- Britannia.”
What more did we learn about the new Caesar?
I learned that it doesn’t matter to Johnson that political representatives from working class backgrounds think his act is bullshit.
It doesn’t matter to him that the Scottish, Northern Irish and Welsh people have no time for his affectation. Because all that matters to him is that the posh press members who are from the same background as him, and those who did P. P. E. at Oxford, think he’s a wheeze; a hoot.
He knows the members of the press who are in place in news organisations because of their contacts and trust with the dimedius-aristocratiam at the top of our society (and we DO need press people who are confident enough to talk to them, and who understand their circles as well as their fucking Latin), are totally disempowered by him. As are most other politicians from his background.
He subverts their norms.
He is the poshos equivalent to the working class (1970s) Billy Connolly, saying the publicly unsayable and breaking their archaic etiquette… Making them laugh, diverting them in the way Eastender Nick Cotton charmed Dot for years and years.
Unfortunately, their inability to do their job because of his subverting the politician/journo relationship, is costing the country as a whole, dearly.
I learned that we need more Eddie Mair’s and Andrew Neil’s- people who scrutinise and get past his cartoon, clownish facade.
I learned that the “provincial politicos,” the no bullshit, state educated bureaucrats who, whether or not we agree or disagree with their policies, those who actually do their work, really don’t matter to him. He can ignore our elected representatives. He can pretend to listen to them by turning up. But he really doesn’t give a shit about them or us.
And the thing is, Nicola Sturgeon, Arlene Foster, Mary Lou Macdonald and Mark Drakeford are as totally disempowered as we the ordinary ragamuffin, vulgus, plebs, serfs are.
All of us have to sit, in our places, and allow him to wreck our lives.
By Neil Scott