by John Ward
Brutal Boris, Horrible Hunt, Mercenary Media and the Lamentable Leftlibs. All human strife is on show today, but real life remains behind the curtains.
O to be in Englande now that Establishment civil war is here. My brief Blighty-pass will soon be at an end, but for once The Slog’s timing has been impeccable.
A senior Tory whip “who does not want to be named” is saying that the second frontrunner Boris Johnson shows any sign of heading towards NoDeal Brexit, “he will be toppled within days”. This is the same whip’s office that failed three times to get the BerlinerDiktat through the Commons, and the same tendency that was powerless over the last fortnight to stop BoJo romping home.
But that’s not the point, right? The point eeeez, right, yer Boris lacks bottle and is doomed to stumble into scandals involving wine-stains on the sofa. The swine.
‘Boris Johnson is a coward’ warbles Jeremy ‘Dorian’ Hunt from The Times this morning. I suspect he is right; and BoJo is also a tippler, a misogynist, a liar, corrupt, cynical and close to depraved.
But Warwick Hunt is the greater hypocrite….and the only one in this pair peddling baseless accusations and idiotic “rules” when it comes to answering trumped-up media questions. Jeremy NotCorbyn is a desperate man resorting to despicable measures.
So it would be as well to even up the score.
Mr Hunt made his political career and fortune via a judicious mixture of bare-faced nepotism, fraud, tax-cheating, Newscorp arse-licking and serial mendacity.
He used his relative Virginia Bottomley to establish a monopoly-supply deal for his company Hotcourses with eternally bent crony-quango The British Council. When Hunt screwed up the first job the BC commissioned, Bottomley covered for him and hid the invoicing relationship from the authorities. He conspired with his business partner to falsify employee reports and win a Newscorp Employer of the Year Award. When Bottomley ascended to the House of Lords as Baroness Nettlestone, Hunt got her South West Surrey seat. For years he lied about the Bottomley family connection, until this site forced him to change his Wikipedia entry to admit it.
He was a prime fixer while in opposition, brokering the deal with Newscorp to switch from New Labour to Cameron’s Conservatives in 2010. He abused his position as Culture Secretary to oil the wheels of a full Murdoch takeover of Sky, and when caught in the act, redacted over 100 emails from the subsequent inquiry in a bid to cover his tracks. Somehow, he survived…and was being lined up for the chop by Cameron until a combination of pressure from Newscorp and shady Tory donor money suddenly saw him promoted to Health Secretary.
In that latter role, he misled both hospital doctors and nurses, persistently created funding difficulties for NHS regions, brought in thousands of private agency staff to exacerbate the cost issues, ignored the blatant need for higher tech, and engaged eagerly in both the creeping privatisation of gp services and out-sourcing of hospital contracts. He remained – of course – in close touch with Nettlestone…a lobbyist in the Lords for private health insurer PPP. Jeremy claimed to be a lifelong fan of the NHS; but in 2008, he co-wrote with Dan Hannan a Conservative policy paper asserting that it should be “demolished brick by brick”.
As foreign secretary, he has followed NATO’s absurd Russophobia, gleefully retailing the endless lies and exaggerations about Putin’s “intentions”. He was a solid Remainer in 2016 and – despite attempts at times to sound touchy-leavy – he remains an enthusiastic neocon eurocrat wedded to the idea of special relationships and federalist projects.
Before writing his Times piece today, *unt ludicrously suggested that (by not discussing a tiff over spilt wine with his lover) Johnson had a private life that somehow made him a security risk open to blackmail. Today, he writes, “I am not interested in debating Boris’s private life”. That is correct: but he is very happy to big up that private life as an issue.
He says BoJo should “man up and face me”, adding the specious assertion that, ‘A new prime minister needs the legitimacy of having made his arguments publicly and having them subjected to scrutiny, instead of slinking through the back door.’
So, er, crushing all his opponents (including Jeremiah) in the Parliamentary election and enjoying a huge majority of support among the grassroots is back door stuff then? Sorry Dorian duckie, you’ve lost me there….more back door than your entry into the Commons via Surrey SW? More backdoor than Theresa May whom, two years ago, you so enthusiastically supported? More backdoor than you sleazing under the door of the British Council?
Leaving backdoors for a second or two in favour of next-door neighbours, Boris Johnson’s only stalwart media supporter the Daily Telegraph did an efficient demolition job on the Leftlib’s role in beefing up the “concerned” Johnson love nest neighbours. This delightful pair of liberal fascisti taped the wine-spillage tiff in full and then promptly handed it to the Guardian. What a signed-up pair of lovey-sweetie euromorons the neighbours turn out to be, engaging as they do (it seems) in daily V-signs and obscene insults towards Boris and Carrie.
It never seems to occur to these Useful Idiots that in loving the EU and despising those who voted Leave, they are doing the dirty work of global monopolists and disastrous mercantile neocons for them. They loathe Trump but love Hillary….despite the fact it is is the former who displays much greater distrust of the oil-to-weapons axis in the US. Equally, they support a sabre-rattling NATO and a technocratically federalist European Commission led by a crooked banker alumnus of Goldman Sachs and socialist-destroying facilitator of tax evasion in Luxembourg. There is no end to the cognitive dissonance involved in all this.
Many of them, of course, favour the Corbyn model of reform. They flatly refuse to take on board the obvious reality that at least four of his central policy strategies would be rejected out of hand by the European Commission.
It is all, in fact, completely unreal. A political sky full of fireworks….or as the French call them, feux d’artifices. Spot on in my view: an artifice of pyrotechnics and rockets that fall rapidly back to Earth. Serial shoots of flame and loud bangs, spinning pinwheeels constantly getting stuck, or Mount Etnas that erupt for a minute or two, but then collapse into a molehill of malodorous smoke.
In being like this, political life in the West today reflects our econo-cultural surrealism of Artificial Intelligence, fake data, fairytale ecologists, fanatical believers, funny business and foul play. Quite the most earnestly dotty ideas about race, gender, society, religion and fiscal management are first hyped, then lauded to the heavens, and then worshipped on the way to becoming assumptions masquerading as settled science.
Once more, our embarrassment of political choices and options comes to the fore, desperately demanding our applause. Step right up ladizzangenelmen, and pledge your troth: what shall it be….Boris Brat the banker-loving justice-perverter and love-cheat, or Jeremy Jellyfish the glass-housed stone-throwing brown-nose nepotistic fraudster?
Stay tuned. There is everything to play for, everything to lose, and nothing to choose between them.