Boris Johnson interview –

April 2005

by Kevin Widdop – kevinwiddop@yahoo.co.uk

Boris Johnson is apologising - again. For his lack of

punctuality - "Sorry, sorry," he says to his

Conservative colleagues; to local constituents for

knocking on their doors delivering leaflets, what he

calls "bumph"; "sorry for disturbing you", "Good

morning, sorry to trouble you."

It's been six months since Boris' most

infamous

apology. Forced by leader Michael Howard to go to

Liverpool and deliver a mea culpa for running an

editorial after the muder of hostage Ken Bigley in

Iraq, the magazine said Liverpudlians were "wallowing"

in disproportionate grief. He couldn't have looked

more uncomfortable had he done it whilst walking

across hot coal.

MP for Henley, editor of right-wing magazine The

Spectator, novelist, columnist for the Daily Telegraph

coupled with a monthly piece on motoring in GQ

magazine, Johnson enters his constituency office

firing off apologies.

"Brill" and "cool" he says of the schedule for

the

coming days. Such language seems at odds with his

cut-glass drawl. But, then again, this is Boris

Johnson: a more enigmatic figure it would be hard to

find.

Shoes scruffy, bright blond hair dishevelled,

knotting a clown-sized tie onto his crisp white shirt

in tune with his Hugo Boss suit, he looks like he is

doing five jobs at once. And he is. How does he manage

to juggle so well? "I'm not sure I do it that well."

This statement seems vindicated given what

happened

last autumn. Having weathered the tide of poison that

came his way - Bigley's brother, Paul, said he was "a

self-centred pompous twit" and should get out of

public life - he was sacked a month later as Shadow

Arts Minister. Howard said he had to go for "lying"

about accusations about his private life.

Boris is characteristically wry about his

leader.

"Magnificent - full of guts. Always sacking people."

Publicly, most Tories supported the decision.

Privately, people said that one of the most electable

things about the party had been banished to the

backbench. Yet six months in the wilderness has done

nothing to dent his passion for the party.

"I think there's a swing to the Conservatives

going

on. And it's very striking. For the first time in a

long time people are really wanting a change of

government. I think they like what we've got to say.

They like the disciplined approach the Tories have

got, you know, what we say we mean. We think to a few

simple propositions and I think it's going down well.

I just, you know, don't think people are persuaded by

Blair anymore. There has been a catastrophic

disenchantment with him."

Why? "I think it's a lot to do with the

invasion of

Iraq. The loss of trust issue is all about the way

Labour handled the Iraq invasion. People think that

Blair, basically, is a bullshitter. And they can see

it very exactly in the way he misrepresented the data

on

weapons of mass destruction. If a guy can bullshit

about that he can bullshit about anything."

On the subject of what many have associated

with

bullshit, I ask him about the relationship between

Blair and Gordon Brown. "I think the whole thing is

scandalous and fraudulent. Why we ask to look at this

emetic, and homoerotic..." pausing as he searches for

other

negative adjectives to the evident discomfort of his

agent, Wayne. "But I think the real scandal is that

we're being asked to vote for Blair when the obvious

intention is some time in the next parliament to say

farewell to Tony and instil Gordon Brown."

Has he got anything against a Scot running the

country? "I'm all in favour of enterprising Scots all

over the world. But I've got a narrower objection to

the constitutional arrangements, which I think are

unjust."

This is a subject that causes some laughter

later

when he gives a speech to Oxford Brookes University.

It seems at any one moment Boris Johnson could let off

a political firecracker and at the same time not be

aware of it.

This is the sort of thing that the media

heavyweight

Andrew Neil - now Boris' boss at The Spectator - was

hired by Telegraph owners, the Barclay billionaire

brothers, to stamp out.

The magazine was awarded the dubious moniker

'The

Sextator' after too much in-house shagging. Neil

recently said that it should be "dragged into the 21st

century." I ask him what his relationship is like with

Neil? "Terrific." Oh, come, come Boris. Mouth agape,

acknowledging that I'm having none of it, he says: "I

thought this was supposed to be about the general

election?" I remind that he is - for the time being at

least - the editor of a political magazine. A string

of "erms" and "ahhs" brings our conversation to an

abrupt halt.

I begin to understand what former Daily

Telegraph

editor and Johnson's mentor, Max Hastings, meant when

he advised him that he must be more serious if he was

to fulfill his potential, when I ask him if he has any

anecdotes from the campaign. "Anecdotes? You're the

anecdote, mate."

So who is Boris Johnson? Who are his idols,

for

instance? "Pericles. Aristotle. Bill Deedes," he says

of the one-time Telegraph editor. All this might sound

like Boris Johnson is a bit of an elitist. A scan at

his background might lend weight to such claims.

Born Alexander Boris de Pfeffer Johnson in New

York, he was educated at an international school in

Brussels before heading to Eton, then studied Classics

at Oxford.

Yet despite the privilege, he has a wonderful

ability

to appeal to ordinary voters. Charming and affable,

and never inconspicuous, the number of people who say

they remember his speech at the local fete, or

his performance at the primary school, is staggering.

A performance as guest host on the political

sketch

show Have I Got News For You - described by some as

the funniest ever - heightened his celebrity, which he

says he enjoyed very much.

I tell him that when I informed people who I

was

interviewing,

jolly, charming and eccentric were among the

adjectives used. What does he think of his public

image? "You're asking me a metaphysical question," he

says frustrated.

*****

Boris is giggling like a school boy. He is reading

from the Conservative campaign book: "6% of 16-24 year

olds thought the Armada was defeated by Gandalf," he

says scornfully. "This is good stuff, innit?"

Later at the quaint, archetypal village pub

The Red

Lion, he seems much more relaxed asking searching

questions about a colleague's book on Vietnam than

answering them about himself.

I wonder why he got into the game in the first

place?

"A sense of mission. I knew I had to do it."

What is it that he enjoys most about politics?

The

hullabaloo? Unsurprisingly, given the excrement that

was thrown at Johnson in the tabloids last year, he

brushes that one aside. Instead, he says he enjoys

meeting local people. "It's very interesting and

exciting. It's always worth it."

Reading the policies of his Lib Dem rival, he

becomes

particularly animated. "Outrageous," he says, his

voice rising a beat. "We've got to zap these liberals.

Liberal lies! You must expose it in the Leeds Student

newspaper. You've gotta fight, fight, fight."

He asks me if I'm going to vote Tory. I have

to

disappoint him. "Unbelievable. If you vote Lib Dem

they're just gonna keep the show on the road. If

you're remotely interested in freedom, getting

government off people's backs, clearing the whole

thing up, you've gotta to vote Tory, man."

I ask the man that says his bedtime reading is

Homer's The Iliad whether he gets any time for TV? "I

do, I do. Desperate Housewives. I just think the

plot's starting to lose it - what's happening? It's

all the same thing."

Having been barked at by an aggressive

constituent's

dog, tripping over a step, coming perilously close to

offending Scots, Johnson emerges as a charming,

endearing, multi-talented man with a penchant for the

bizarre and wonderful. "I'm gettin' knackered," Boris

sighs. "How many more weeks of this?"