Like one of Fitzgerald’s characters, the PM is so insulated by privilege that he will never see the wreckage strewn behind him
While writing his last novel, F Scott Fitzgerald reminded himself of one fundamental truth by putting it in big block capitals: ACTION IS CHARACTER. And through Boris Johnson’s actions what has been exposed over these past few weeks is his character in office.
None of the usual talking points otherwise do justice to the display before us. Not “sleaze”, that quaint 1990s term with its chortlesome memories of David Mellor in a Chelsea kit. Not cod psychology about Dominic Cummings, however thrilled tranches of the press are at the return of their favourite panto villain, alongside his remarkably quotable friends. And certainly not yawping about the lack of “cut-through” by commentators too focused on byelections to see this is squarely about the morality of the man who runs this country.
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