WARNING: This article contains strong language.
Sunak slinks back through Heathrow, hoody and posture-political mask neatly in place. Ruffled and snappy. ‘Yes I’m looking at all this over the weekend’ – he told one reporter. Like a vexed dad, having to move his car cos it’s parked a bit on next door’s drive.
Though I doubt very much any of Rishi’s twenty three gaffs has a next door.
Those pesky fu****g pub landlords squealing about their pathetic small businesses. Hospitality sector reps be dashed. And how dare Whitty ruin everything again? Can’t he see I’m valiantly handing over this much-clapped NHS to US Healthcare honchos – I’m in plain sight now. No point in all this stealth and fibbery. I’ll l leave that to the captain. There’s me thinking I could keep away from his leaky dinghy.
Voila. Bring on the buffed-up, arse-saving US trade deal with ‘our friends’ (it’s always this pal-sy, ain’t it, even when killing each other seems likely). This’ll large up that dismal Brexit thing, mutters Rishi, as he clambers into his car.
The FT tells us that we know all this through ‘a treasury insider’ – how the t*ts does that work, then? Surely they won’t last the gig. Is this worse than Nigel photocopying his plums on the office photocopier. Yes, probably.
The US healthcare system, based entirely on profit, is the worst in the world and, as Joni keeps on singing ‘you don’t know what you got til it’s gone’, this chilly development is feeling scarily close these days.
Add massive hikes on household bills, Council tax, diminishing social care, energy price caps, travel etc, and a gnawing sick feeling that nothing will feel the same ever again – and we can clearly see that Rishi Sunak, Saviour of The Universe, is no more than an incompetent hedge-funding Thatcherite careerist, giving less than one sh*t about the serfs and toilers expecting, god help us, some decent politics.
As many of us struggle to feed families, future more uncertain now, with January looking a little banana breadish again, our reverse Robin Hood’s pulling up his tights and calling his mate, Patel. The Home Secretary’s been quiet. Both of them are easily-refreshed brands. And it will be fascinating to see how much further Johnson can self-harm. Could he get any worse? Will he ever use a comb?
Runners and riders? Gove, Truss?
Nah. I’m thinking Sunak and Patel. The thrust and face of modern politics is all shiny surfaces these days. Nobody remembers what conservatism is anymore. And after the obvious mess of Brexit, #PartyGate, Paterson, Northern Ireland, North Shropshire – and a slurry of other recent horror stories – this will look like an elegantly-won, people-pleasing masterclass on how to do leadership and deputy without fluster.
Anyone suddenly shocked by this argy bargy simply hasn’t been paying attention. And anyone who’s ever had a drunken conversation with a hedge-funder knows that those who slobber, dribble and worship at the altar of easy profit at someone else’s expense are unstoppable. Sunak is unstoppable.
Party on.
