Don’t call him Boris.
It’s the name for a cuddly toy, a cute little Russian boy, a dashing guy from a book by Tolstoy. Don’t call him Bojo.
He’s not fast like Flo Jo or sexy like J-Lo. Don’t mix up mojo with a sleazy libido.
Don’t even call him a Bozo.
He’s not dopey or stupid or amusingly ropey.
He’s lazy, duplicitous, slippery, wet soapy.
He’s no fool, no joker, no harmless buffoon, he’s a cynical, devious, racist goon.
Please don’t compare this dangerous fake
To a benign and affectionate
namesake.
He’s not original, a one-off.
He’s not a maverick.
If you have to...
call him Johnson
...another word for dick.
Lisa Hallgarten
London
• In Simon Woods’ play Hansard, recently on at the National, the biggest laugh – and some of the audience standing and cheering – occurred on the line “I tell you it’s the great mystery of our time, the insatiable desire of the people of this country to be fucked by an old Etonian.”
Hilton McRae
London
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