Boris Johnson needs to be liked but the way things are going… we’ll all hate him

IF you were on a crashing airliner, you’d like to think the pilot was up there in the cockpit, sensibly and calmly working through the ­problems before making the decision: “Right. I am going to land this.”

But what if he was actually thinking: “Wait. If I deploy the flaps now, I’m going to get crucified on social media.”

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You would certainly be very alarmed if you found he then took suggestions from a footballer, and a stewardess, and his weird co-pilot who never tucks his shirt in and occasionally insists on taking the controls to see if his “eyes are working properly”. 

And you would be horrified if you found that he was arguing with air traffic control, using Greek mythology to get his point across.

But that is EXACTLY what’s happening with our country at the moment.

When the virus came along, Boris dithered. And now it’s on the wane, he’s dithering again.

I’ve no idea where we are on social distancing or face masks because Boris won’t give clear, simple advice.  

Or he makes a decision then changes his mind after talking to Marcus Rashford. So now children from less well-off families will get free school meals even though they’re not at bloody school.

They were going back. Then they weren’t, because the unions objected. The unions? Those pipsqueaks. Those Seventies throwbacks. A real leader would just ignore them.

It’s the same with all the yobbishness we’ve seen on the streets these past couple of weeks. We need a leader to come out of his front door and roar instructions to the police. Instead we’ve got someone who thinks . . . actually, I have no idea what he thinks. Right now, no one has a clue what’s coming next. 

Every other country in Europe is getting back to normal but here, with death rates below average for this time of year, we have no idea when we can go to the pub or head off to a camp site. Or, most important of all, go back to work.

They keep saying I can have six people round for a barbecue and, I’m sorry, but what’s that got to do with anything? 

The country’s going to the dogs.

We are looking at the prospect of five million on the dole. We are staring down the barrel of a depression beyond anything humankind has ever seen before . . . and Boris is talking about bloody barbecues?

Or worse, he’s standing in that leather-lined talking shop in Westminster using quotes from Aeschylus — who’s just a dead Greek — to try to score points over Sir Starmer. 

What are we supposed to think, Boris, when you do that? “Ooh, aren’t you clever. Aren’t we lucky to have you?” Well, I didn’t. 

Because intellectual willy-waving like this is dumb. It’s exactly the same as getting your c**k out and asking Sir Starmer if his is bigger. 

The trouble is that Boris Johnson is motivated most of all by a need to be liked. Which means he doesn’t want to do anything which, even in the short term, is unpopular.

Well, I’ve got news for you, Boris. You are damned whatever you do, because when the fallout from this virus blankets the country in a choking, suffocating dust and there are food and race riots and every other kind of riot, we are going to hate your guts. 

So stop thinking about your legacy and stop worrying about your re-election chances because you have none. We’d be more likely to vote for Amanda Holden.

If you can get that through your weird hair and into your head, you might find it refreshing. Because you’d be able to make firm, clear decisions for the good of the country, rather than the good of Boris Johnson.

Got that? Good. Well now lose the stupid slogans, open the floodgates and ORDER us back to work.

Talk some scents, Gwyn

GWYNETH Paltrow has launched a candle called “This smells like my orgasm”.

Let’s hope she is never asked to prove this in court. Actually, strike that. Let’s hope she is.

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Playing us for fuels

SHOCK horror. A report this week has found  that the official fuel consumption figures for new cars are very often completely inaccurate.

You don’t say.

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The people in charge admit that it’s very hard to replicate the real world  in a test and that there are bound to be discrepancies.

That’s why the official figure for, say, a Volvo V40 T4 is 34.8mpg whereas the “real” figure is more likely to be 27.1mpg.

Best then, when buying a new car, to remember Clarkson’s first law: All cars do, give or take, 30mpg.

And all electric cars have a range which is never quite big enough to get to where you’re going.

Blow to plastic

FIRST we were told to stop using plastic straws and now comes a warning that, soon, we won’t be able to use fivers and tenners either.

Anyone would think this was all part of the war on drugs.

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Bo-air is really a tanker

SO, the RAF plane formerly known as Cam Force One and Thereasy Jet is to be painted red, white and blue.

This has made people very angry, because they can’t see why the taxpayer should fork out £900,000 on the respray when the kiddies and old people etc etc etc.

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Well, relax everyone. It’s not like Boris is the president of the Ivory Coast, who has ten extremely luxurious private jets. 

Or the King of Morocco, who flies around on a $450million 747 jumbo, which features a private cinema hall, a play area, pool tables and five private sleeping berths.

Our plane, when all is said and done, is a petrol tanker. Its main job is to feed hungry fighters, so inside there will be a constant smell, I should imagine, of avgas.

What’s more, it’s often used to bring wounded soldiers back from the front line so it’s also a flying hospital.

And because it can take aid to disaster zones, it’s an Amazon delivery van too.

The actual space left over for VIPs is described by the RAF as “modest”. 

Plus, David Cameron maintained that whenever he wanted to use it for foreign trips, it was always “busy”.

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Wheely, Marcus?

MARCUS Rashford won many friends this week following his decision to take on the Government over free school meals.

But there’s no getting round the fact he drives an awful car.

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