When the PM stood up in the House of
Commons last week and uttered his unapologetic apology, he must have been well
aware that there were other events which hadn’t yet been made public, especially
the “Wine
Time Friday” sessions which were apparently scheduled into the electronic
calendars of around 50 Downing Street staff, and which the PM is reported to
have called into on multiple occasions. And he must surely have been aware that
there was a high probability, given the succession of stories over recent weeks
about other events at Downing Street, that they would also become public sooner
or later. Perhaps he was simply hoping that the story wouldn’t get out – a pretty
forlorn hope given that there are clearly multiple sources behind the string of
stories.
Alternatively, this latest revelation of a
weekly event might just make some sort of sense of his repeated denials that
there has been any wrongdoing. It is clear that the Friday sessions predated
both the pandemic and the Johnson premiership – they were simply seen as a ‘normal’
part of the working week. Whilst many were trying to work from home, Downing
Street staff were under instructions to attend the office and work normally –
and ‘working normally’ apparently includes staying in the office until late on a regular
basis and consuming alcohol whilst doing so. There have been stories
in the past about a culture of boozy lunches when Johnson was editor of the
Spectator; perhaps for him, drinking in groups around desks and/or moving out
into the garden really is just a normal working day.
Earlier on in the unfolding story, some
ministers got a bit hung up trying to define what was or was not a party.
Duncan Raab tried to claim
that it can’t have been a party because people were "all in suits, or
predominantly in formal attire", and Business Minister Paul Scully
tried to argue
that the absence of balloons and party poppers proved that it was a work event.
It’s a semantic blind alley: for most of us, staying at the office after the
end of the working day and cracking open a few bottles whilst chatting informally
draws a clear line between work and socialising. And it was the people doing that who
made the rules outlawing socialising at the time. It’s a difference which most
of us understand; Johnson’s inability to understand or empathise with the way others think goes
to the heart of the problem.
Whatever, the man’s days in Number 10 are
now clearly numbered. I somehow doubt that the infamous Sue Gray report will
deliver a verdict which is enough, in itself, to finish him off. Establishing
criminality isn’t really part of her brief, and she’s not exactly independent
either as a senior civil servant reporting to the PM. Johnson’s continued smirk
when he refers to her and her report suggests that he is confident that she’ll
give him enough wiggle-room to carry on, but the real question is whether Tory
MPs, fearful for their seats and beset by a wall of outrage from their
constituents, will be content to allow him to do so. The odds look to be against him
at the moment, especially if more revelations keep appearing.
Whilst many will take a certain amount of
pleasure at seeing the Great Liar defenestrated, we should be careful what we
wish for. Perhaps there is a dark horse lurking somewhere in the depths of the
Conservative Party, untainted by association with the boss, who will restore
a degree of decency, common sense and honesty to the affairs of government. But
if there is, he or she has yet to make himself or herself known – and the
alternatives who are currently making their play don’t exactly look like people
who are going to make things much better.
2 comments:
Who is Duncan?
He's named Dominic which in Caernarfon is," do imi niwc", give me a penny.He's not worth any more!
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