Britain Imagined: If BoJo Was PM
Boris Johnson is the political equivalent of the Sugababes – not even a nuclear holocaust could stop him. This is a man who has survived PR calamities that would have obliterated any other politician – it’s pretty tough to imagine David Cameron brushing off a highly publicised affair without a scratch, or Ed Balls clawing back his dignity after 15 minutes dangling from a zipline. But such is BoJo’s bumbling charm that whenever he puts his foot in it, we simply roll our eyes and sigh in resignation as we affectionately wonder what he’s gone and done this time.
It goes without saying that a man who can perfect a formula for keeping the public on his side despite one atrocity after another is some kind of diabolical genius, and this is definitely the case with Boris. He’s clearly playing a long game. Owing to his unfathomably sweeping popularity, there has of course been speculation that he could make a run for Number 10. And would that be so bad? David Cameron’s a posh, out-of-touch drip, Ed Milliband is Luigi trying to do Mario’s job, and Nick Clegg is…well, Nick Clegg. Politics aside, wouldn’t Boris’s hilarious antics at least keep us entertained?
Of course, therein lies the problem – nobody really knows what Boris believes. He’s cultivated his non-threatening persona to further his unquestionable ambition, but there’s no telling what he’d do if he actually got into power. So, like all reputable publications, we decided to speculate wildly based on broad stereotypes about him.
Boris’s entire shtick is that he’s a comically exaggerated lovable English toff – if you think about it, his inspiration was obvious from the start:
The Tories in general and Boris in particular seem obsessed with returning to some non-existent halcyon days of Britain where everyone was a good egg and said ‘spiffing’ a lot and knew that ‘St. John’ was pronounced ‘Sinjin’ and could explain the rules of cricket. Unfortunately for them, these days only existed in The Wind in the Willows – but perhaps this is Boris’s grand plan.
By transforming Britain into a fictional version of itself from literature, Boris would be free to shape the country as he sees fit. Everyone would be forced to speak in a cut-glass accent and go boating, although maybe this wouldn’t be so bad if we were all provided with a motorcar (featuring ‘poop-poop’ klaxon) and a picnic hamper, along with a family estate and title. Actually, this would probably be pretty fun apart from the terrifying anthropomorphic animals.
Yeah, Boris loves the past – he even studied Classics at uni! And that in no way tenuous link leads us to…
Maybe Boris’s extensive knowledge of the Roman Empire will lead him to take a leaf out of their book. Those guys knew how to rule, after all – with an iron, yet drunken, fist. Come to think of it, the upper middle classes of this country are practically already the Romans – they’re pretty fond of wine and Tuscany, and they use those less fortunate than themselves for entertainment purposes.
While Emperor Bojo’s twin policies of unadulterated hedonism and feeding the nouveau riche to lions would definitely secure him the posh vote, the dispossessed masses might not be convinced. Of course, where we see a problem, Bojo sees an opportunity – by simply enslaving the poor, he’d not only eliminate negative votes, but he’d also ensure that every family had a house-chav to fan them and feed them grapes.
Ah, being mean to the working classes. You know who else did that?
In all honesty, Boris would be a pretty poor Iron Lady. While Maggie was probably happy to go down in history as a ruthless, calculating mastermind who broke trade unions over her knee, Boris seems far too desperate to be liked to do anything as controversial as that. We’d probably get a coalition version of Thatcherism, with BoJo pulling a u-turn every time he pisses off anyone who isn’t in UKIP.
Unless…maybe we’re selling him short. Behind that tousled blonde mop, those blustering expressions, and those hapless gaffes…could there be the cold, steely heart of an Iron Johnson, ready to mow down all in his path?
Because that lead could to…
He’s watching you! Boris is already the Mayor of London, a city which apparently sees Orwell’s 1984 less as a stark warning of privacy invasion and more as a blueprint. With the population under constant surveillance, Big Boris would be able to spot dissenters who haven’t fallen for his charm offensive and rectify this by sending them to Room 101. Here, they have to spend an uninterrupted hour making small talk with Ken Livingstone before crawling to Boris’s feet, broken and weeping.
So for London to become a dystopia, it just needs tons of CCTV cameras and a power-hungry authority figure who’s desperate to be loved! Oh…wait…
And there you have it – concrete evidence that if we ever find Boris in charge of our fair country, the results will be utterly ridiculous. What kind of bizarre Bojo scenarios do you envisage? Let us know in the comments.
Words: James Barton