The Brexit Hall of Lame: Boris Johnson

The Brexit Hall of Lame: Alexander Boris de Pfeffel “Boris Johnson” Johnson

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel “Boris Johnson” Johnson was born 19 June 1964. “De Pfeffel” is Latin for “Fuck you, I’m rich,” and indeed his whole series of names reads in revealing contrast to those of both his parents. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s father’s name is Stanley Johnson, the kind of stereotypically 1950s English working-class name that was quite possibly given at some point to a comically incompetent painter and decorator in a Norman Wisdom movie who hilariously and unpredictably donks everyone else in the film in the face with a plank he is carrying on his shoulder. His mother is called Charlotte Fawcett, a name quite possibly given to a generously hair-sprayed and yet still careworn heiress in a 1980s American TV soap opera because the writers thought it sounded a bit Jane Austen. Stan and Char therefore decided that their first-born would never suffer any negative effects of nominative determinism and so gave him a name that announces to the world that he can get away with Whatever the Fuck He Wants.

They further enabled their son with an ancestry including King George II, King Frederick William I of Prussia, and Prince Paul of Württemberg, albeit this time by accident of birth rather than any kind of intent. And besides these various Germans, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s forbears also include people from France, Turkey, and Japan, some of them Muslim and others Jewish, so that the Bullishly English sub-Churchillian Nationalism he delights in demonstrating contrasts starkly with his own multicultural background and thus serves as a perfect illustration of his total contempt for any accurate alignment between what he is and what he says he is, and more generally for any kind of truthfulness at all. Determined indeed that he suffer no inhibiting personal characteristics of any kind, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s parents also apparently instilled in him no sense of decency or restraint whatsoever. Consequently, his childhood ambition was to be “world king,” and to this day he continues to pursue his infantile ambitions, whatever the costs to other people.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s infinite sense of entitlement was further nurtured by growing up in apartments made of gold and mansions made of biscuits in places with such names as Maida Vale, Nethercote, Winsford, Notting Hill, and Primrose Hill, an onomastic geography of English twee that even Richard Curtis would dismiss as implausible. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson was educated at institutions that further helped immunise him from the consequences of his actions: Ashdown House School, Eton, and then Ballyho College, Oxford—an upward trajectory unimpeded by his various teachers’ reports of his underachievement, laziness, and poor character. While at Oxford, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson joined the Bullingdon Club, along with David Cameron (and also Gideon “George” Osbourne, who they referred to as “oik” because he went to Westminster School rather than Eton). It bears repeating at every opportunity that the Bullingdon Club is a strictly exclusive chaps-only society whose now famous initiation ceremony involves inductees inserting their members into the mouths of dead pigs, and whose members are reputed for drunkenly destroying restaurants, burning £50 notes in the faces of homeless people, and making life-time connections in business and politics that ensure they always give each other first dibs on top jobs ahead of their more able and better qualified but less hoggosexual peers.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s career throughout what is legal speaking his adulthood is similarly basically a piss-taking demonstration of the fact that in Britain, even today, a certain class of people will always rise to the top, however indolent and incompetent they evidently are, and will always fall upwards, however fraudulent and dishonest they are proved to be. He was employed straight out of Oxford at The Times—for Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson there would be no decades-long apprenticeship of reporting on potholes, dog-shit hotspots, and twattishly minor crimes for The Framley Examiner. He was fired from The Times for falsifying quotes, but did this disgraceful behaviour make Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson persona non grata in the media? Au contraire, old bean. He was instead quickly hired at The Daily Telegraph by Oxford University chum Maximum Hatings, and as Brussels correspondent from 1989 to 1994 he spent five years lying about the European Union, knowingly so, as other journalists repeatedly told him so—before being promoted to assistant editor from 1994 to 1999 and then editor of sister publication The Spectator. During these years he was frequently absent, late, and abusive to support staff, was involved in a failed conspiracy with Oxford University chum Darius Guppy to have another journalist beaten up, and used his column to refer to gay men as “tank-topped bumboys,” refer to black people as “picaninnies” with “watermelon smiles,” make jokes about “cannibalism” in Papua New Guinea, and call for the re-colonisation of Uganda. When removed from his editorship of The Spectator, he asked for and received a raise from £200,000 to £250,000, or £5,000 per Telegraph column, or £3,333.33 per hour of work. He agreed under political pressure to donate a fifth of this stunningly easily money to student hardship bursaries, which he then reneged on doing, describing this fantastic amount of money as “chicken feed.”

Did all this disgraceful behaviour make Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson persona non grata in the media? Au contraire, old bean. From the late 1990s, he quickly became a fixture on the BBC, with regular appearances on such shows as Top Gear, Parkinson, Breakfast with Frost, Question Time, and Have I Got News For You, successfully using the publicly-funded and massively powerful platform handily provided by the national broadcaster to further cultivate his image as a bit of a character, a bit of a larf, a sort of Terry Wogan for homophobes, xenophobes, racists, and liars. The BBC thus assisted Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson in launching his career as a homophobic, xenophobic, racist, and lying politician.

After promising newspaper proprietor and massive conman Conrad Moffat Black that he would not seek election to parliament while editing The Spectator, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson became Conservative MP for Henley in 2001. He turned up for half the parliamentary votes, for which efforts he was rewarded with appointment as shadow arts minister and party vice-chairman. After being sacked for lying about an affair, he was re-elected in 2005 with an increased majority. He resigned the seat in 2008 to become Mayor of London, where he immediately claimed credit for what he named “Boris Bikes,” the idea and the work of his predecessor, Ken Livingstone. Livingstone would later rather generously describe Johnson as a “lazy tosser.” To be fair, though, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson did make the effort to reverse his predecessor’s environmental red tape, eliminating some congestion charges and restrictions on diesel emissions, cultivating public opinion on the issues by suppressing a report revealing that nitrogen dioxide levels exceeded EU maximum levels in areas that included 433 primary schools and that led to the deaths of 6,000 Londoners a year. Although, allegedly, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson did help ease people’s minds during the Olympic Games by deploying dust suppressants to remove air particulates near monitoring stations.

After promising voters during his re-election campaign in 2012 that he would not seek election to parliament while Mayor of London, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson became Conservative MP for Uxbridge and South Ruislip in 2015. He soon made himself centre of attention again by theatrically delaying announcing his stance for the forthcoming EU referendum, after the bum-faced uber-donk of a Prime Minister David Cameron Twat failed to promise him money and jobs to secure his support for Remain in advance. Then, in contrast to historic statements about Britain being better off In, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson sincerely committed himself to Out. So sincerely indeed that he threw all his resources of mendacity into the personal career opportunities the referendum represented, lying that Britain paid £350 million a week into the EU, lying that he’d reinvest this money in the NHS, lying in a xenophobic way that the EU was like Napoleon and Hitler in trying to create a Roman imperial United Europe, lying in a racist way about possible Turkish entry into the EU resulting in 80 million Turkish people coming to the UK. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s shocked face when his lies unexpectedly won the referendum made plain that his plan all along was to be the plucky loser who would become Prime Minister in a pity-wank Tory leadership election that would eventually come. Instead he was forced to renounce his own candidature as too divisive in a leadership election that came way too quickly after the resignation of the dimwitted hambasket in Number 10 whose vainglorious stupidity gave rise to all this thunderfuckery in the first place. Hilariously, however, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s partner in lies during the referendum campaign, an evil Batman villain named Michael “The Govelin” Gove, stabbed his erstwhile ally in the front and entered the leadership race himself, and equally hilariously spectacularly lost.

New Prime Minister Thereza May decided that Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s now notorious record of laziness, corruption, and mendacity made him suitable for a post in her cabinet, and that his now global reputation for xenophobia and racism would make him an ideal Foreign Secretary. One highlight of Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s time at the Foreign Office came during a visit to a temple in Myanmar when the British ambassador had to prevent him from reading Rudyard Kipling’s racist poem Mandalay. Another came at the Isis-wrecked Libyan city of Serte, which, he said, and I absolutely shit you not, could be a new Dubai when they “clear the dead bodies away.” He also prompted the Iranian courts to double Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe’s prison sentence for allegedly teaching journalism from 5 to 10 years by saying she was teaching journalism. He continued in his post.

What also helped Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson win the admiration of and visits to his aides by US Nazi Steve Bannon was his continued open hostility to and mendacity about the EU. During the referendum campaign he said there wouldn’t be a hard brexit because getting a deal would be easy and Britain can have its cake and eat it too—he literally said that, perhaps sincerely as this had after all been his personal experience throughout his entire life—but afterwards he supported a hard Brexit and then a no deal one that no one voted for. When asked about business concerns about no deal, he said “Fuck Business,” thereby unveiling the disaster capitalist aim of destructive social engineering that motivated many Brexit politicians all along and that he had opportunistically come around to. Also, having said during the referendum campaign that there wouldn’t be a hard border in Ireland, he then said there would be, then said there wouldn’t be, and has since said there would be. Or, in other words, “Fuck Ireland.”

In July 2018, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson resigned from the Cabinet because Thereza May’s proposed deal was insufficiently unacceptable to the EU, and also so he could spend more time lying in newspapers and being racist and corrupt. In a Telegraph article, he ensured he kept plenty of attention on himself by saying that women in burqas and niqabs look like letter boxes and bank robbers, leading to a rise in hate crimes against Muslims. An independent panel established afterwards by the Conservative Party exonerated him on the grounds that he was “respectful and tolerant.” Also, a Sky News poll found that 60 percent of respondents found his comments “not racist.” Because, thanks in large part to Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, that’s where we are now. His re-employment at the Telegraph, furthermore, was found to breach the Ministerial Code, and he was also forced to apologise to Parliament for failing to declare £50,000 of earnings. The Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards found a total of nine “not inadvertent” failures by Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson to declare his incomes. Has all this further disgraceful behaviour finally made him persona non grata in the media? Au contraire, old bean. He continues to be a popular figure who, though a backbencher now, is frequently sought out to feed the BBC’s anti-EU and pro-brexit lie machine.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffle Johnson has had a series of relationships with women who, being upper-class, are all named after motor vehicles. His two wives were sturdy and reliable British classics, an Allegra Mostyn-Owen and a Marina Wheeler, although in his spare time he likes a run around in fast and flashy Italian numbers and has been seen in a Petronella Wiat and an Anna Fazackili.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffle Johnson, former MP for Henley, former Mayor of London, former Foreign Secretary, MP Uxbridge and South Ruislip, “journalist,” lazy tosser, burbling man-child, globulous Honey Monster of venal joviality, Prince Philip in a fat-suit and meticulously tousled clown wig, rumple-suited monument to monstrous self-regard, lumbering cockwomble of shameless mendacity, honking fucktrumpet of rabid xenophobia, bloviating anus of racist hatred, massive Mr. Creosote of biblical excess whose “wafer-thin mint” moment cannot possibly come soon enough, future “World King,” future President for Life of the No-Banana Republic of Little England.