Ha! Nice choice of music at the start of Theresa vs Boris: How May Became PM (BBC2, Sunday). Johnny Cash’s The Man Comes Around, with all its biblical references – Revelations, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which in turn leads you to infectious disease, evil, empire prosperity, empire division, imperial oppression, destroying an empire … it’s perfect isn’t it? Almost as if Johnny C wrote it about the Tory party.
This docudrama, which covers the three weeks between the Brexit vote and Theresa May being installed at No 10 was obviously commissioned pre the snap election – they must have thought all the action was in the past. But the timing works well. Now that May seems to be very much on the way down, what better time for a reminder of how her rise came about? “This film is based on extensive research and on eyewitness testimony,” we are told. Key advisers to Team May and Team Boris take part, also Team Leadsom, though not Team Gove (they are probably too ashamed of themselves). Plus, Nicky Morgan and Iain Duncan Smith. Interviews are interspersed with real footage and dramatised scenes.
The drama isn’t the most subtle, or of the highest quality. And the fact that Jacqueline King, Will Barton and John Seaward aren’t the most Maylike, Johnsonish and Govesque respectively could be more easily forgotten if this were pure drama. But when they are standing next to, and interwoven with, the real people they are playing, it is more awkward. But, hey, you can forget and forgive that because the events themselves are so extraordinary. Twenty days of the most Machiavellian scheming and treachery, by – in the words of a Gove adviser in one of the dramatised bits – “insincere, duplicitous bastards”. At least that shows some self-awareness, I suppose.
Some of the most fun is to be had in the tension between Johnson’s camp and Gove’s, even while those camps were supposed to be one camp. Different approaches – curry and whiff-whaff v spreadsheets, followed by the greatest treachery of all. “It takes a very special sort of person to knife one of your best friends of over 20 years in the back,” says one of Boris’s advisers.
And a dramatised scene highlight: Gavin Williamson castigating someone for not voting for May. He will be next time. “And just so I know, you’ll take a fucking photo of your ballot paper, and send it to me,” says Williamson. “If you don’t, I’ll fire you, then I’ll fucking castrate you, all right? Meantime, we’re going to go in and laugh at Theresa’s joke like it’s funny, OK?”
Malcolm Tucker would be proud of that. Williamson’s spider makes an appearance too. I don’t know if it’s the real Cronus, or an actor spider, but it is very convincing.
You want irony? You got it. May has a reputation “for a safe pair of hands, and for competence” says her adviser. “She reaches a conclusion; it doesn’t matter what it is, she makes a decision and that’s it.” And then dramatised Williamson adds: “The one thing I can promise you is that Theresa will not be holding an early election.” Maybe they slipped that one in, as a late addition, for extra fun. It is a lot of fun anyway. Until you suddenly remember that it is not The Thick of It, it is our government. And that these people are running the country. At the time of writing, anyway …
Blind Date (Channel 5, Saturday) returned to a new home, with a sparkly new set and Paul O’Grady in the Cilla Black role. Otherwise, it’s same old, same old, format-wise. (What is your name and where do you come from? My name’s Ryan, and I’m from London. Yay! Suddenly, we are transported back to the 90s). Debbie from Stockport asks all her potential dates the same question: what animal would she be getting if she picked them? They deliver their rehearsed answers. It is about as spontaneous and fun as Theresa May (see above). This was a stale formula when it last aired 14 years ago. Now, thanks to First Dates and Take Me Out, and Tinder and Grindr, it’s irrelevant. Oh, and offensive.
“I just hope you’re not a dog,” No 2 says to Debbie. That shouldn’t have got on to the box should it? In 2017. Or ever. After the tiniest moment of nostalgia, I’m turning my light off, and swiping left … or is it right? Whichever one means “no likey”.
