Even Dominic Cummings had to admit that the Tory election campaign hadn’t got off to the best of starts. The Art of War was all very well, but you could take “doing what your opponents least expect” too far. Jacob Rees-Mogg saying the Grenfell residents lacked the common sense to save their own lives had been a masterstroke. As had Sajid Javid being prevented from publishing costings of Labour promises on the grounds the Tories hadn’t a clue how to cost their own.
Classic Dom could also just about live with James “Amateur Hour” Cleverly failing the nominative determinism test by crashing and burning during a series of media interviews about the misleadingly edited Keir Starmer video. But even he had had to concede that Welsh secretary, Alun Cairns, who had been lined up as point man for the Tory campaign in Wales, having to resign over allegations that he had known a former aide had deliberately sabotaged a rape trial, was not a great look. At the current rate of ministerial attrition, the Conservatives would have to wheel out Chris Grayling by the end of the week. Or possibly even Priti Patel.
“We need to get back on the front foot,” Dom Tzu barked, angrily drumming his fingers on the prime minister’s desk.
“What shall we do?” asked Boris Johnson, looking on helplessly.
“There’s only one thing for it. I know we’ve been trying to keep you under wraps because no one much likes you, but it’s now shit or bust. We’re going to have to wheel you out and try and play to your strengths. What’s the one thing everyone can rely on you to be?”
“Completely untrustworthy?” Boris offered tentatively.
“Precisely!” Dom snapped. “So after a quick warm-up lying to the Queen again at Buckingham Palace – just do your prorogation shtick again – you’re going to give a five-minute TV clip in which your one goal is to tell as many lies as possible. The punters will go mad for it. There’s nothing they like more than being taken for fools.”
Shortly before 1pm, Johnson stepped out into Downing Street. He looked pastier than usual, having been kept hidden indoors for so long, and gripped the podium to dissipate the tension. This was his big moment and he was determined not to screw up.
“Pifflepafflewifflewaffle chewing my tie,” he began.
“No, no, no, you moron,” yelled Dom Tzu, kicking the wall in frustration. This wasn’t the time for Boris to do his Archie Rice tribute act. He just wanted lies. The more the better. Give me lies, give me lies, give me sweet little lies.
“I didn’t want this election,” Johnson said. That was more like it. Of course he wanted an election. He’d tried to call one three times under the Fixed-term Parliaments Act and failed. “Parliament had blocked my Brexit deal.” YES! Of course it hadn’t. The Commons had actually passed it by 30 votes at second reading.
For the first time in weeks, Dom Tzu could feel himself begin to relax. Everything was going to be OK after all. Now that the first two lies were out the way, Boris was totally in the lying zone. Forty new hospitals, when six would be lucky to get a minor refurb. More money for all schools. Apart from the schools that would be getting nothing. Jeremy Corbyn was going to murder millions of kulaks and encourage bullying in schools.
The Tories were pro business. Fuck business. Labour were going to have two referendums in a year. Dom Tzu had to smile. Surely no one would believe that? On it went. Boris was the man to save the Union. As long as no one mentioned Northern Ireland. The Conservatives were a moderate, one nation party. Which is why all the moderates were standing down and only the outright lunatics were left.
“Respect,” said Dom Tzu, high-fiving Boris as he returned indoors. “You excelled yourself. I made it at least 10 barefaced lies in under five minutes, Though it’s possible a couple even slipped beneath my radar. That’s a record even for you. Now, all you have to do is go out there and do the same thing again at the campaign rally in Birmingham.”
Later that evening, 400 Tory activists were kitted out with ‘Get Brexit Done’ T-shirts and placards and shunted into one corner of a large hall of the National Exhibition Centre along with the cabinet and treated to a warm up act of a smirking Patel and a startled Cleverly. The lack of talent on display was terrifying. The 30-second campaign video that preceded Johnson’s arrival was by far the most professional thing on show all night.
“Pifflepafflewifflewaffle anaconda tapir bendy bus,” he began nervously. The Great Pretender was back, trying to charm his audience with a few gags that even Benny Hill would have rejected. The audience tried to appear charmed but looked mostly nervous or bored, until a few minders prodded them into waving their placards for the TV cameras.
Then he relaxed into his lying and Dom Tzu breathed a little easier. Get Brexit Done. No chance of that. The withdrawal agreement was barely the start. He still didn’t want an election. Parliament was still blocking him. He had a deal that he had campaigned for. Even though he had told the DUP it was a deal the UK could never accept less than a year earlier.
The lying then became so out of control, that the lies started backing up on each other so that he couldn’t even connect them into meaningful sentences. He accused Corbyn of dithering when he could barely hang on to a single thought. Unable even to realise just how badly he comes across.
Johnson fails both as a serious politician and as a comedy performer. At a newcomers’ open-mic night he would have been booed off in under 30 seconds. Still, he had got all his lies in and that’s what really counted. And with any luck, some of them might have been believed.
John Crace’s new book, Decline and Fail: Read in Case of Political Apocalypse, is published by Guardian Faber. To order a copy go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £15, online orders only. Phone orders min. p&p of £1.99.
