All five Tories are equally hopeless on TV
Sajid Javid out-Borised Boris yesterday morning with a witty piece of self-deprecatory humour: he was “less Homer’s Iliad and more Homer Simpson”. The BBC 1 debate later was less Gladiator than Asterix without the jokes. With messages that lurched from the subliminal to the ridiculous, the Tory hopefuls look ever more grotesque with every outing.
Five middle-aged men in suits, awkwardly perched on barstools, were caught between the rock of unsmilingly hostile members of the public (at a guess, not one of them a Conservative voter) and the hard place of Emily Maitlis, who tormented them like Villanelle on a bad day.
Nobody won, because the aim of the exercise was to show them all up as losers. This is the BBC, remember: they don’t like Tories. All eyes were on Boris, who looked unprepared and more sheepish than bullish. His fears of “blue on blue action” and “cacophony” were realised. By the end, the big beast had turned into Ferdinand the bull, sitting down in the ring and watching bemused as the matadors fought it out.
Abdullah from Bristol (who had earlier provided a hilarious interlude when he was introduced as Tina from Tunbridge Wells) asked them pointedly whether they agreed that “words have consequences”. Quailing under the Maitlis death-stare, Boris went into defensive mode, apologising if any of his columns had caused offence (isn’t that what he is paid to do?) and waffling about his Muslim great-grandfather. He might have hit back by mentioning the consequences of extremist preachers and online groomers, whose words have recruited hundreds of young Britons to be terrorists and fighters for Islamic State. But Boris bottled it.
His best moment came when he was attacked for promising tax cuts for the better off. Boris hit back by reminding viewers that nurses and senior teachers were now paying the higher rate of income tax: by whose definition are these public sector workers rich people? We glimpsed a rearguard action on behalf of the much put-upon middle classes against the jacquerie of Jeremy Corbyn’s Momentum mob. But Madame Guillotine, aka Maitlis, made sure that he never got a chance to develop this theme.
And what of the rest? Jeremy Hunt looked competent and had his moment of glory, when he was thanked by a man from Oxford who asked who would offer tax cuts to the working class. Michael Gove at times looked better than that, with his gift of the gab and command of the facts. But he was a little too inclined to boast (“I’m the only one with a plan”). That tactic apparently works in American TV debates; here, not so much.
Sajid Javid, who had early barely scraped through the vote and had little to lose, really let rip. Towards the end he took back control from the BBC by bouncing his colleagues into agreeing to an external investigation into Islamophobia in the Conservative Party. That is a promise they may live to regret — not that the Tories have anything to hide, but because the Home Secretary’s endorsement of former chairwoman Baroness Warsi’s demand for such scrutiny implies that the party might have a problem comparable to the institutional anti-Semitism of Corbyn’s Labour Party. The Equalities Commission, which is now quite rightly investigating Labour, could come under pressure to do the same to the Tories. But Javid may have fallen into a trap, as the imam whose question prompted his promise is a hardline Islamist whose views on women and Israel the Home Secretary would never endorse.
And what of Rory Stewart? The best that can be said is that he confirmed his reputation as a great British eccentric. Where Boris was boring, Rory (we are all on first name terms with him now) was bizarre. At one point Rory removed his tie, at others he stared at the ceiling as he contradicted everyone, including himself. Most Tory party members will have been tearing their hair out and their MPs may conclude that Rory has delighted us long enough. I shall be amazed if Rory survives the next ballot.
The Etonian sense of entitlement was on full display. Both Boris and Rory seemed to have a thought bubble hovering above them: “What on earth am I doing here?” Boris can’t believe he still has to perform, while Rory can’t believe his luck. Neither could play to the gallery; there was no gallery.
Politics is not a game show. If this had been a first date, the country would have said no to a second. Boris, of course, is an old flame. He must do better, though, if he is to woo the great British public.
