Boris and Jeremy: about last night

 Did you catch The Big Debate last night? I did – well, OK, from time to time I looked up from the book I was reading. And what I saw deepened my conviction that the British people, having made fools of themselves by voting for Brexit, are now so embarrassed by what they’ve done they want to jump into the fiery Brexit pit and get it all over with asap.

I say that because the loudest applause of the evening came when Boris Johnson, the man who would be prime minister, told his opponent in so many words to buck up and be optimistic, get a bit of  the old bulldog spirit, enough with the gloom and doom. No plan, no answer to questions posed, his shirt sticking out of his trousers at the back, his hair tousled, his tie askew  – you do know he does all this deliberately ?– Johnson based his entire argument on his bullish character which would take no nonsense from the EU lot, and contrasted it with what he dismissed as the “managerial-type” approach of Hunt.

Don’t get me wrong.  Hunt, whose name gives a hint of what he is, is an ardent austerity man. When Minister for Health, he dealt with junior doctors in a way that suggests he either knows nothing about how hospitals are run and doctors become doctors, or he doesn’t care. He is a Tory to the tips of his bony fingers and he would inflict deeper levels of inequality on the British people. But compared to Johnson – who seems to view political life as a warm-up room for more Bullingdon Club japes and squaffs – Hunt is Mother Theresa reincarnate. The one thing that unites the two men is that they think this damned back-stop is simply outrageous and must be magicked away.

Guess what, you out-of-touch tossers: the back-stop is going nowhere. You, on the other hand, along with your country and, alas, many of us, are aboard a hand-cart headed straight for economic and political hell.

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