Thursday, 19 March 2020

Opinion: Of our PM, cometh the hour, cometh no man


A good time to lead
I mused openly on Twitter about what a time it must be to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and the First Lord of the Treasury. To sit in office as the leader of the 6th largest economy in the world whose waning global influence is deftly characterised by the will of the people in Brexit ensconced in a nostalgic past that never existed.
Boris Johnson won a landslide election on the mantra of ‘Get Brexit Done’ then promulgated laws to really get it done within a timeframe that would never shift at the pain of illegality. We left the EU for a transitional period until the end of the year on January the 31st.
Now, all that Boris and his team had to do was wait out the rest of the year distracting us with either a Canada+ deal or and Australian deal, which in effect is a ‘no deal’ scenario, because Australia has no deal with the EU.
A joke too far
Boris Johnson wanted to be Prime Minister so bad, he gambled on a lot of things, a fantasist with no acquaintance to the truth through his journalistic career, his penchant for abuse passed off as inconsequential banter is well-documented that it needs no repeating here. It is probably not delusional to think that having once been the Mayor of London, higher office beckoned.
Theresa May, whose record as Prime Minister, history might be less forgiving for, plucked him out of looming obscurity and made him Foreign Secretary, it was a joke that went too far, but it paved the way to the resurrection of a leadership dilettante whose charisma is a mountain to the molehill of his scruples or principles.
His cup to drink from
If for a moment, he as the Lord before his Passion did have a Garden of Gethsemane moment, a clear recognition of what the responsibility of the Prime Minister held beyond winging it as a circus clown with bombast, bluster and buffoonery, he might have prayed or rather refused to drink of the cup. The intoxicating brew of Brexit became a mission of drunken desire which as it reached ferment found the sweetening of spoonsful of the Coronavirus.
Now, duty calls to rise to the occasion, like he (Jesus) who went to the cross knowing the suffering it entailed or his hero, Winston Churchill, who with honest oratory painted the big picture with all its gloom whilst leading a nation through the hardship of World War II to victory over Nazism, I fear, with the Coronavirus pandemic, the hour has come, but the man is absent.
If there be any redeeming feature of Boris Johnson apart from his ability to make babies, it would be a transfiguration before our eyes, I would however not expect any of the great Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom to waste their eternal repose coming up for a chat. He is Prime Minister, and I wish him well if hubris doesn’t get the better of him first.

But I can better let my sympathies be with those in harm’s way, our NHS legion of people of inestimable value, for whom necessary protection is still stockpiled somewhere rather than on them, wearing the kit to keep them safe.

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