Welcome to Boris Britain: where it may be illegal to know about Downing Street parties, but not to throw them – Fleet Street Fox


The problem with electing a known and proven liar to be Prime Minister is that he has spent the best part of 60 years in an alternative reality.

In Boris Land, he’s a serial seducer of raving beauties. In the real world, he’s an animated laundry hamper, frotting women too repressed to realize they can do better than a man who makes Prince Andrew look like a catch.

To us, the truth is absolute; to Boris, it’s an inconvenience. He has spent 6 decades throwing his post-coital energies into convincing someone whatever they’re upset about is not really his fault, and has come to believe his own blethering.

To Boris, calling it rhubarb makes it crumble. And when he gets to say that about things more important than what happened to his Latin homework, things really do start to fall apart.

First the bus was a lie, then the prorogation of Parliament, and then the Withdrawal Agreement he hadn’t read and didn’t like but signed into law anyway, and finally realized was abusive and needed to be overridden.

Next Covid was a ‘flu, COBRA meetings unnecessary, and “a government of all the talents” could include Dominic Raab – DOMINIC RAAB! – and Liz Truss, a woman capable of embarrassing the pork markets.

Then he shared our anger, he knew of no parties, oh THOSE parties, you’ll have to wait for Sue Gray’s report, you’ll have to wait for the police investigation, you can’t know what they’re investigating, look what’s THAT Liz Truss on a PLANE!

Think what poor Marina’s marriage was like, faced with a revolving door of thoughtless young women and a never-ending set of domestic theatrics assisted by a thesaurus.

And so here we are, in a place where Fleet Street was better at detecting crime than the Metropolitan Police, where Twitter has a stronger moral code than the government, and a copper does not want you to know what you’ve already guessed, on the grounds – honest, this is what they said – that would make it harder to find out what happened.

“Well it made sense to ME”



On January 25, Met commissioner Cressida Dick announced that an investigation had begun into alleged parties in Westminster that may have broken the law. She said this was because those involved would have known it was illegal, had very little defense for it, and not doing so would “significantly undermine the legitimacy of the law.”

There would be no issue, said the Met, with Sue Gray publishing her report in full.

A mere 72 hours later, the Met has asked for the report to be edited “to avoid prejudice to our investigation.” The report is delayed, perhaps indefinitely, on the grounds that knowing what the police know, might stop us finding out if the police know enough to arrest anybody. And there’s an implied threat that, if anyone leaked it, there’d be legal consequences.

Which might be reasonable, if this was the first anyone had heard about parties, and Dominic Cummings didn’t exist.

“Oh, I exist, and what’s more I’m going out the front door where you can all get a picture of what is very much not going to look like MY disgrace in the long run”



Partygate has been banging out the hits at top volume since last year. There is no way that anyone in Westminster involved in those parties remains unaware of the pressing need to dispose of evidence, for the simple reason that the police have arrived a fortnight after Sue Gray and almost 3 months after Pippa Crerar.

If there’s something in the report that might therefore compromise their investigation then that bird has not just flown, but has been sunning itself in a country without a Paxo treaty since before Christmas. All those involved in the parties already know how criminal they were, and have either kept or destroyed the evidence to protect themselves.

Which leaves just two possibilities. Either there’s a concerted effort to push the scandal far enough into the future that the PM has time to come up with another outrage to distract us, or an internal human resources report has uncovered a greater criminal conspiracy than even those involved in it realise.

There are clues for those who can spot them. On Monday there was cake, and on Tuesday we were threatened with war. On Wednesday Boris Johnson criticized lawyers, and Thursday saw revelations the PM lied about puppies. On Friday the Daily Wail complained about top civil servants.

There have been distractions, which have not worked, and the jarring, honest note in all of that noise is that the Prime Minister is not enamored of m’learned friends, who coincidentally, we now discover, have been crawling all over the report and delaying its publication.

At the same time, Liz Truss told us she had to take a £500,000 private plane to Australia in case she needed to get back quickly, which makes sense only if the alternative means of leaving Australia was the backstroke.

Rishi Sunak told us he went to a party by accident, Lulu Lytle revealed she only broke Covid rules because she was asked to, and the Treasury wrote off £4.3bn of fraud without trying to get any of it back, while ending a work- from-home tax allowance which cost just an eighth of that sum and was entirely legal.

“I’m good at maffs, me”



If you follow the evidence, it points to a cover-up, but not of parties, misconduct in public office, or even attempting to pervert the course of justice. It’s an official claim that the ruling elite has entered the Prime Minister’s psychosis. To believe him is to imitate him.

That’s why a die-hard Boris voter insists this is all fine, while the saner ones tell pollsters they want him out. It’s why those in government minister to his ego rather than their departments. And it’s why the police fear those in Westminster – and the couple who live in the flat above No11 Downing Street – will be genuinely surprised to be told they did wrong.

When Boris persuaded a little gang at school to behave like him to provide cover for his unpleasantness, it didn’t matter. When he got women to put their faith in the show, rather than the facts, he hurt only his family. But when you place a pathological liar in the heart of government, that government itself becomes a figment of his imagination, subject to no rules, and no moral universe.

Of course they held illegal parties, while simultaneously being unaware it was wrong. It’s exactly like adultery by a man whose wife keeps forgiving him: the only question is how long everyone wants to be f***ed.

Like every good liar, Boris uses the truth to deceive. When he calls your outrage rhubarb, you can be sure it will grow exponentially for as long as he keeps shoveling dung.


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George Holan

George Holan is chief editor at Plainsmen Post and has articles published in many notable publications in the last decade.

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