Complicit Press Can’t Let Bozo Go

The news that had been bad a week ago has now become dire: lockdown-busting parties were not some kind of occasional aberration in Downing Street, but a regular event, with at least one taking place every week. To assist in the provision of sufficient wine - the Parliamentary estate’s preferred route to oblivion - a fridge was delivered to hold more than 30 bottles of the stuff. Regular replenishment came from a nearby Tesco Metro.

And just to put the lid on alleged Prime Minister Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s protestations of innocence, witnesses (plural) have told how he either joined in with, or at least encouraged, the gatherings. Faced with the reality of Bozo’s serial lawbreaking, and subsequent serially lying his way out of it, what would a sensible press pack have done? What would Nietzsche have done? But here a problem enters.

The straightforward response to the mounting revelations, and the clear contempt in which the Tories have held the little people, many of whom voted them into power, would be to tell their readers that the game was up, he’d run out of road, and duly throw the SOB under one of his vanity buses. But our free and fearless press can’t, and won’t, do that.

Cheersh!

Because they are so heavily invested in The Adoration Of The Boris. They, the Tories, and, it increasingly appears, the Metropolitan Police, have merged into one big, happy and worryingly incestuous family. The cops saw nothing, and they won’t investigate. The press will keep on wiping Bozo’s arse for fear that their own party might come to an end.

So it was that today’s Sun and Mail attempted to deflect away from their hero: for the odious flannelled fool Master Harry Cole, the pretend journalist inexplicably elevated to become Sun political editor, this task has been accomplished by lying. “Boris Johnson said sorry to the Queen yesterday” he claimed. Bozo did’t say sorry. Number 10 did.

Look over there at the Royals!

Then the deflection: “The apology piles pressure on Prince Andrew”. Fuck off. Just fuck right off. But thanks for letting us know that Creepy Uncle Rupe doesn’t yet think the time has come for him to anoint Bozo’s successor. Meanwhile, over at the Northcliffe House bunker, the legendarily foul mouthed Paul Dacre is reimposing himself on the Mail.

Only the Vagina Monologue (for it is he) has the brass neck to recycle an almost year-old non-story. “STARMER THE COVID PARTY HYPOCRITE … He was pictured drinking beer at indoor gathering when restrictions were in place. But guess what, he says it was a ‘work gathering’”. The blurry photo was run by the Sun last year. Is it beer? Who knows?

Look over there at last year's non story!

And, indeed, who cares? It hardly compares to the apparently regular descent into an advanced state of alcoholic derangement practised by Downing Street staff, other hangers-on, and a variety of Tory politicians including Bozo himself. The PM, meanwhile, is preparing to dump the blame on others within Number 10 and elsewhere, forcing them to resign so that he can save his skin. Which is something else the Mail and Sun won’t tell you.

All the while, Tory poll numbers are in freefall, the only silver lining being the stubbornly high percentage of Don’t Knows. This the right-wing press does not want to hear. So on goes the peddling of lame propaganda and the dumping on someone, anyone, else.

For press, politicians and Police, the message is clear: reality is a state of mind.

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