Boris Johnson has always believed that rules do not apply to him because he does not see the world through the lens of rules that must be obeyed, but rather as a battle of wills between people.
The source of fury in his deranged 1,000-word rant, released on Friday evening, is the fact that he cannot accept that the privileges committee, and especially its chairperson Harriet Harman, has gotten the better of him. He cannot accept that he has lost a battle of wills to what he regards as lesser opponents.
He cannot – and will never – see that he has lost only to himself. That he was simply found utterly wanting. Power, in politics, is often gained in the first instance through naked political chicanery, but it is only held on to, at least in this country, through service to the people. And Mr Johnson cannot accept that his party took action to remove him because he had lost the confidence of the people. Not only that they would never again believe a word he said, but also that he had been a disastrous leader at a very serious time. He had precisely none of the skills that the Covid pandemic required of him.
He can’t accept what the committee in effect found. That he lacked the simple courage to stop feckless staff from turning 10 Downing Street into a glorified frat house, and when found out, very obviously lied about it and was believed by precisely no one.
If Mr Johnson is seriously planning a comeback – any sort of comeback, via any means whatsoever – he has no chance of doing so until he is able to confront these questions and come up with an honest answer. He is out on his ear, politically, because he is a liar, and there is no one who believes he is not a liar. If he wishes to return, he will, at some point, have to turn back, not continue his deranged march to oblivion.
He will also need allies. The reason his resignation honours list has appalled so many people is simple enough to understand. The point of a resignation honours list is to say thank you to the people who have suffered through your having had to resign. In Mr Johnson’s case, therefore, it was to honour those who remained loyal to him. And the only people left loyal to Mr Johnson, by the end, were rendered ridiculous through their loyalty.
There is rich comedy in the details of how Nadine Dorries and Nigel Adams came not to be awarded their much-promised peerages, and then resigned in protest. Mr Johnson says he was assured by Rishi Sunak that said peerages could be awarded further down the line, so as not to force unnecessary by-elections. Mr Johnson claims those promises were broken. Mr Sunak claims those promises were not made, and that you cannot string along an offer of a peerage in perpetuity, and so the peerage offers were in effect withdrawn.
This, allies of Mr Johnson claim, was a Sunak betrayal. It was nothing of the sort. It was all very obviously a game, in which by this advanced point only the likes of Nadine Dorries were stupid enough to be used as pawns.
There is absolutely no one left who could possibly ever trust him; not that it matters. The people certainly don’t. They never will again, and that is the end of the matter.
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