Boris Johnson is a living, walking, sweating, puffing legend. A legernd, as his many shouting, squealing fans would have it. This man who
is lovingly known by many as a ‘massive cockwomble’ has come an awfully long way from vandalising restaurants with the Bullingdon club,
arranging to have journalists beaten up and impregnating multiple women who aren’t exactly his wife. These days Johnson is a style icon, a master of mind control
and the Conservative party’s shaggiest, least coherent leading light.
BoJo is untouchable. He is loved. He’s a big, fat charming mess; a man carved out of Teflon and corned beef. Nothing can touch him. While some leaders only have
to read their words from a typed sheet in closed meetings to bring about jeers of condemnation, Boris can ignore his manifesto, waste millions on vanity projects and
campaign for us to leave the EU on a platform of personal ambition and lies. Then, when all he wanted has been achieved, with racism engulfing our country and the
pound in a state of flat-lining collapse, everyone decides to blame Jeremy Corbyn instead.
But who is he really? What is the overgrown homunculus behind the witless burblings, comedy pratfalls and depthless bank account? Is it just vanity, belief in his
right to power and veritable oceans of spunk powering the figure known as ‘BoJo’, or could there be something different behind this carefully constructed façade of
incompetence and hair? To find out, Home Defence was granted exclusive access to every right-thinking housewife’s sexual fantasy, joining The Johnson in his new
office at the Foreign Office earlier this summer. Once there we talked BREXIT, Shakespeare, groupies, and how Johnson intends to get his own back on our new Prime Minister, Theresa The Terminatrix….
Home Defence: Wow, the reports weren’t wrong – your office really is the size of a tennis court!
Boris Johnson: Absolutement, as we say in France. One day I’ll set up a table and get a game of whiff whaff going in here, all day long. Just like my
wealthy, land-owning ancestors used to.
HDUK: There’s so much space! Imagine how many nubile young lovelies you could fit on that desk…
BJ: Ha ha – well, cripes, yes, I’m waiting for the Guinness World Records representative to call before I organise that party! [pause] That was a joke – don’t
put it in. I can’t have my wife thinking the wrong thing, not again. I had to vow it was the last time on pain of death when my last bastard child turned up at
the door, unannounced.
HDUK: Don’t worry, we promise.
BJ: The truth of the matter is, I haven’t been around much lately. I’m only here today because, right now, I’m actually responsible for the entire country.
HDUK: You’re what?
BJ: Oh yes, with the boss man off on her walking tour of Swissland, yours truly has been charged with making sure everything goes alright while she’s away.
I’m currently the most senior politician in this land.
HDUK: How’s that been going?
BJ: I think I over-watered some of her plants and accidentally set fire to a bin. Apart from that, things seem to run themselves. I’ve had literally nothing to do – which is how I like it. You’d hardly know I was in charge; its just like when I was Mayor.
HDUK: We were going to ask about your eight years as the Conservative Mayor of London. What do you think of as your greatest achievement from that time, looking back? The Emirates airline? Boris Bikes? Cycle Superhighways? The Bikram Bus? That massive sculpture thing with a slide in it? Falling into a canal?
BJ: I’m proud of everything; especially the stuff with my name on it, officially or unofficially - they’ll never take that away from me. Not unless the
massive cuts George Osborne inflicted on London Transport before disappearing to shoot things like some angry survivalist turn out to be a
problem. I’ve heard it said by some the tens of millions my initiatives require each year, just to keep going, is less than good value but I disagree.
Bloody lefties, they’re always against huge public subsidies.
HDUK: But the one thing…?
BJ: Oh yes. Well, if I had to pick just one achievement it would be the Night Tube.
HDUK: Unfortunately Sadiq Khan has now claimed all the credit for that. At least, until it goes horribly wrong.
BJ: Hmmm, he’s clearly learned from my rulebook about basking in the glory of the previous incumbent. Well, my second choice would be banning alcohol on public transport.
HDUK: Really? But that’s literally unenforceable. Several passengers were downing cans of gin and tonic on my way here. You can’t expect a bus driver to come out from his
bulletproof cubbyhole to remonstrate with someone guzzling gin like some kind of inner city Queen Mother…
BJ: Can we move on? Perhaps you should take a seat – I can ask my delightfully pulchritudinous assistant to make you an espresso? Petticoat? Are you there?
HDUK: That’s ok; no need to bellow. Let’s go through the last few months of your whirlwind existence instead. You stopped being Mayor in a blaze of ambivalence and disinterest from the media and Londoners...
BJ: They didn’t realise how lucky they were. I’m surprised more people weren’t out there, celebrating everything I did. I asked the Chancellor for money to fund a giant street party in my honour but they said the location I chose had dangerously high levels of air pollution and anyone with asthma would quite literally die. Bloody bureaucrats, spoiling all our fun.
HDUK: Then you jumped headlong into the Vote Leave campaign, driving a bus that promised £350 million a day for the NHS if the UK left the
European Union.
BJ: Don’t be ridiculous! It was £350 million a week we said would materialise for the sick and ailing. What a great bus that was, such a wonderfully piercing
horn. You know it’s been sold on to Noel Edmonds?
HDUK: I didn’t. But the important thing was your message about taking back sovereignty and leaving behind those barmy Brussels dictators who supposedly
defined our system of fish pricing. That really resonated, particularly with people who had been screwed over by actual politicians. And racists.
BJ: Is there a question?
HDUK: The day after the vote, you and your former bessie ‘Govey’ [former Justice and Education Secretary Michael Gove] weren’t looking too pleased
at having got what you wanted. Indeed, while Nigel Farage and other prominent ‘Brexiteers’ were celebrating long and hard, the two of you appeared on
TV looking white-faced and terrified, as if you didn’t quite understand what had happened and were terrified there was no way of fixing it…
BJ: I fail to recognise your interpretation of events.
HDUK: …one correspondent described Michael Gove as “looking like a man who has just come down from an acid trip, only to discover he’s accidentally
killed his best friend.”
BJ: That’s entirely inaccurate. Govey has never done LSD in my presence; it really isn’t his drug. I mean, imagine having to deal with a woman like Sarah
after imbibing hallucinogens! It doesn’t bear thinking about.
HDUK: What really happened that night?
BJ: It certainly wasn’t anything as silly as me wanting the result to be close so my old mucker Dave’s position would become untenable and he'd have
to step down, thereby clearing the path for yours truly to rule. That thought never crossed my mind.
HDUK: You genuinely wanted Britain to leave the European Union?
BJ: Oh, good golly, yes. The EU’s terrible; a terrible thing. It’s done, er, untold damage to, ah, people, and, um, other stuff.
HDUK: Mr Johnson, I can see in the reflection there your fingers are clearly crossed behind your back.
BJ: Ah, um, crikey – you can see that? Really? Ba, Ba – bah! Ngh, bleurgh! What I’m clearly not saying is that, er, there are no downsides to leaving the
EU. Of course there will be. All that funding lost, research capability gone, farmers and universities in trouble, a reduced standing in the world, all the
anti-immigrant nonsense. As I’ve said many times, I’m entirely pro-immigrant…
HDUK: Because foreign workers are so much easier for corporations to exploit.
BJ: …but the worst part about leaving the EU, and sadly under-reported in the press, was the young people protesting outside my modest
Islington mansion, night and day. For weeks they would start up at 6 a.m., like some kind of sweary dawn chorus, all singing: “la la la, Boris is a wanker”
or “that Boris Johnson, what a silly twatboy – what a cunty cunty cunt - WHAT A MASSIVE CUNT.” My children shouldn’t have to hear that, however much
the younger ones enjoy waving at them.
HDUK: You’re no fan of direct action?
BJ: By no means. I rang the police and asked to have those unwashed students removed but the officer just laughed at me. I think the P.M. might have got
to him.
HDUK: Surely the silver lining that week must have been Diddy Dave stepping down, after bottling the whole mess like some kind of ham-faced idiot?
BJ: That seems a trifle harsh. If you have to lay the blame for the ‘Out’ victory at anyone’s door, I would recommend Jeremy Corbyn. Or possibly Gordon Brown.
HDUK: But wasn’t the outcome everything you hoped? Ousting Cameron before 2020 to achieve your goal of becoming “World King” all the sooner? Having maintained
the whole anti-EU pretence for months, how did it go wrong so late in the day?
BJ: Listen, I’ve a lot of respect for Michael Gove. He isn’t one of those spineless protoplasmic jelly things you so often find
in the upper echelons of political parties…
HDUK: Er, ok.
BJ: …so when he came to me a few days later and said: ‘Look Boris, old son, geez - the wife thinks I oughta run for P.M. so if you could back me mate, that’d be all sortsa
handy. You’ll get the job later on me old china, no doubt, ‘cause the peeps love your comedy ways and how you dance a jig, but this is the wrong time for you guv’nor.’
HDUK: And you listened to him?
BJ: I had to. Michael has a certain amount of hold over me for reasons I can’t legally disclose. He then went into detail about how much effort running the country would entail; making BREXIT happen; all the paperwork, and for so little monetary reward.
HDUK: Hard work has never been your forte.
BJ: Other people are better at the heavy lifting. I’m more the inspirational type, with my unique appearance and top-notch bantz.
HDUK: I must say, your hair remains extremely impressive. Even as the rest of you starts to look quite saggy and ill, at the age of fifty-two those
flowing locks remain a delight, without a shred of grey. How often do you get a dye job?
BJ: A dye job? This is au naturalle my friend.
HDUK: So what happened after that? You didn’t actually back Mr Gove in the end did you?
BJ: No, I stepped aside. That should have been enough.
HDUK: Instead you threw your ample weight behind some non-entity called Andrea Leadsom, telling the media she had what it took to be Prime Minister. But Andrea turned out to have almost exactly the opposite of what it took to be Prime Minister.
BJ: A minor misjudgement on my part. Andrea could have done a brilliant job, leading the party with me as the power behind her throne, lingering on the sidelines, ready to step
in. But she decided the job was too much hassle and I can’t say I blame her.
HDUK: When Theresa turned out to be literally the only person in the country who actively wanted the top job, she immediately kicked George Osborne into the long grass,
ended Gove’s career with a flick of her wrist and told Iain Duncan Smith to stuff any remaining political ambitions he might have right up his chuff. Did you fear you would be
next for the snip?
BJ: Not at all. I had faith Theresa knew exactly what I could offer this country, and the wider world. We’d been positioning ourselves carefully through shady backroom deals for
many years. Terry’s the sort of leader who understands its important to keep your friends close and people like me - media superstars, massive legends - even closer.
HDUK: It must have been difficult though, being made Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs at a time when most of the powers previously associated
with the post had been devolved to the International Trade Secretary or newly-invented ‘Secretary for BREXIT’. When you were unveiled, it was as an essentially pointless
figurehead. Then you were called a liar by the press and many of your new colleagues on the international stage.
BJ: I’ve been regularly called a liar ever since I was a very young man, simply because I started to utter statements some chose to interpret as falsehoods. I simply told
Johnny Foreigner any such ejaculations were quoted out of context and got on with it.
HDUK: Did they swallow it?
BJ: Most people swallow anything I offer them. Besides, all the diplomats I’ve met understand. They know the pushing of
untruths is key to becoming a world-conquering politician. I could hardly mean much of what I say after all. Many have
forgiven me. With their eyes, if not verbally.
HDUK: It was impressive, the way you built bridges with the French foreign minister by conducting a press conference entirely in his tongue...
BJ: It helps to be so cosmopolitan and gifted.
HDUK: …although you confused everyone present when, in response to a question about the future of the Euro, you said you would “now turn right into the swimming
pool”.
BJ: Teething problems, that’s all. It takes time to settle into a new job. But I’ll win those dirty frogs over.
HDUK: You were unable to attend your first Brussels face-to-face, with the RAF passenger jet you were travelling on making an emergency landing in Luton. That can’t
have been pleasant.
BJ: Luton gets a lot of bad press but I have to say, I find the place delightful. ‘The Jewel in the Crown of Outer London’ I call it.
HDUK: Others say you must now intervene to help that innocent British mother being held in an Iranian prison, reconsider selling fighter jets to Saudi Arabia when they’re
used to bomb Yemeni children, highlight the appalling human rights record of Bahrain or…
BJ: Let me stop you right there. I only accepted this role on the understanding I would effectively act as a simulated image to unite people, like Wenlock or Mandeville. I’m
happy to show my face and travel the world, particularly in places where the fillies are nicely turned out: Brazil, Thailand, Tahiti. But at the end of the day, I’m a mere employee.
HDUK: Are you admitting to an underlying laziness?
BJ: Not at all. I devote an awful lot of time and energy to things that are nothing to do with my family or job. But the nitty-gritty isn’t what I’m about. You’re talking about
details; I’m a big picture kind of man.
HDUK: Ken Livingstone once described you as “a lazy tosser”.
BJ: At least he didn’t mention Hitler.
HDUK: Others have speculated that the packed itinerary of a Foreign Secretary has come your way because the new P.M. wants you out of the country as
often as possible, and just generally far away from her...
BJ: That’s not what she told me.
HDUK: …and that May chose to appoint you as our country’s main conduit between hundreds of nations to mess with everyone’s heads, since the bulk of them
have already been insulted by you, in conversation or print.
BJ: I wish that was an exaggeration.
HDUK: What do you say to this suggestion? That your appointment is actually intended to increase pressure on you so you’ll either expire or resign. A kind
of: “You pissed off the world Boris, now sort it out or die trying”.
BJ: Again, wildly implausible. I happen to believe Theresa May is a woman of limitless compassion. Unless you’re an asylum seeker, or obese child.
HDUK: You really aren’t looking well though.
BJ: The kids have been keeping me up - several of them are going through a difficult phase. The youngest and, er, one of the middle ones.
HDUK: Let’s move away from politics. Your new job will potentially have a negative effect on your media profile. No more Telegraph columns or panel show appearances,
having to ditch the biography of Shakespeare you were commissioned to write…
BJ: It’s a real shame, yes. I know many professional Shakespeare scholars were keen to read my take on the bard.
HDUK: You reportedly received half a million pounds from Hodder and Stoughton to write that book – will you be returning the advance?
BJ: Next question.
HDUK: How have recent events impacted upon your family; your wife Marina Warner QC and five kids.
BJ: Six.
HDUK: Eh?
BJ: I’ve got six kids.
HDUK: I don’t think you do…
BJ: Oh no, maybe you’re right, not officially. Well, in answer to your question; not a great deal’s been going on as I rarely pay them much attention. Some of our more European household staff were quite het up by BREXIT, but we gave them some more money and they quietened down.
HDUK: Finally, I’d like to pass on a message from Home Defence’s regular columnist, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.
BJ: Oh yes?
HDUK: Bashar would like to congratulate you on your appointment and say thank you, for all the times you’ve endorsed his military actions in the past…
BJ: I don’t think I’ve ever done that?
HDUK: I actually have a copy of your column here, the one you wrote for The Daily Telegraph that begins ‘Bravo
for Assad!’
BJ: Oh, yes, well, for a while there I did believe he might solve the ISIL problem.
HDUK: But you no longer believe Bashar is good for the Middle East?
BJ: Um, criminy – I would have to say, er… no. Yes and no.
HDUK: I can get him on the phone right now, if you want to clear this up in person?
BJ: No. No. No, no, no. No - no need! I know where I stand on this, and on all matters of international importance.
HDUK: Consistency must be difficult though, after telling people of every stripe exactly what they want to hear for so long and apparently
believing none of it? Is it tricky to hold so many contradictory opinions in your head at one time?
BJ: I’m sorry; I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Are we done? Should we pop out for some refreshment? There’s a wine bar around the corner that’s usually frequented by some absolutely
top-notch totty…
HDUK: Why not?
BJ: You’ve got the first round covered I trust?
And with that Home Defence embarked on a massive bender with BoJo, reassured and invigorated by his fascinating conversation and mighty intellect, this man
for whom the future has always been one great playground. Yes, our nation’s greatest cockwomble bestrides the pathetically grateful establishment in his
trademark creased shirt with gravy on it, singlehandedly annihilating our country’s involvement in the EU project but capable of more, so much more.
Where does he go from here? Certainly Johnson himself isn’t able to say. And how much can we hope for from this taxpayer-funded public servant, this proud
moral compass, this charismatic and attractive Mr Lover-lover? He is now Britain’s representative in the wider world, so look upon his works ye mortals and rejoice.
