Has Boris Johnson missed his vocation in life? Before you say dog-poop collector or sumo-wrestler, let me offer one myself – disaster broadcaster. I can see him now: “I’m standing here at the point where the express train left the tracks (shows teeth in a ‘smile’). I’ve been in there and I can tell you now, my friends, that there are 27 people (makes chopping gesture with both hands), at the very least, dead. The ambulances have been extracting the injured (makes massive air-lifting motion with both arms) and ferrying people to hospital. In all, 13 injured are in ICU! (Eyes pop and teeth show again.) But be of good cheer – this is a chance to show our wonderful NHS at its world-beating best! I say let’s have no more doom and gloom – this is a chance for Britain to seize an opportunity rather than cope with disaster! Onward, my friends, and up! Nil desperandum!”
The one down-side to Johnson as disaster-journalist would be his loss to the world of politics as disaster-reporter. Watching him at any time over the last couple of days it is clear that this is a man who either knows something no one else knows, or a man who has no idea what is really going on.
What is really going on is that the UK is about to plough into the rocks, which will tear the bottom out of its economy and, over a relatively brief period, reduce the once-proud HMS Britannia to a sad damaged core, with people who speak in Scottish, Welsh and Irish accents taking to the lifeboats, leaving the ship’s captain to stand on what’s left of the bridge calling after them “I say! Better together, my friends! Nil timere! I have an oven-ready plan!”
Boris Johnson, master mariner, heir to the steering skills of the captain of the Titanic. Call him Ishmael.
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