Blond Widow

Look, he's crawling up my wall

Blonde and hairy, very tall
Now he's up above my head
Hanging by a little thread.

When John Entwistle penned the little ditty which haunted The Who through several decades, little did he know that a real life Boris was created at around the same time. The nineteen sixties were a great time for horror stories of the genetic mutation variety, but now the overgrown Johnson spider has spun his own web, along with his own story and is using it to catch and terrify smaller politicians and toy with them.

Now he's dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe he's as scared as me
Where's he gone now, I can't see.

Despite his enormous bulk, it is said that much of Boris Johnson remains beneath the surface. That mop of purposefully unruly hair acts as a lure for the less cautious, who are drawn to it like moths to a flame, unaware they will get burned. In particular he likes to taunt his victims with a will-he/won’t-he riddle and over the particular question of Europe he has proved ruthless and unwilling to be drawn. David Cameron knows only too well that he will have to wait to see if he will be eaten or merely toyed with some more, over support for his rigged negotiations.

Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly.

Whatever he eventually does, few will later argue that it was against his own interests. The Johnson clan is a political force to be reckoned with, regardless of acting on blatant self-interest, which is usually a dangerous ploy for any political chancer. The Johnson spider has no sense of moral responsibility and ultimately spares no victims once they are no longer useful or amusing. Caught up in his sticky web of vague hints and un-promised pledges, even voters he intends to shaft gaze up at him as he musses up his hair and wobbles his great, rubbery cheeks and say as one, “It’s Boris, innit?!” unable to stifle a wry chuckle.

Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Some say he’s a force of nature, others, that he is a dangerous beast, but many still see him as a harmless natural survivor, hiding under the skirting boards of top-level politics and occasionally pouncing on his smaller, less well-defended prey. Until recently David Cameron has managed to avoid his clutches but now, there he is, struggling. His only defence against the overgrown Eton schoolboy is for somebody else with bigger shoes to take him out...

He's come to a sticky end
Don't think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl 'round

He's embedded in the ground

 

Boo!

But that’s just an old song. Despite his public vacuity, playing up the big, clumsy kid persona, those who know him say he is a serious front-runner and Cameron needs his deadly handshake to stay in the game. Certainly the general public either loathe him as part of a side they would never support, or love him as he plays political wiff-waff, his own version of the sport, in which he gets to make up the rules as he goes along. Boris Johnson, lovable chancer, or Boris the Spider, Machiavellian manipulator? I’m no longer sure which is real.