Depending on your POV, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson (srsly) is: (A) A shambolic posh fat idiot with no more political ability than a lit fart; (B) The Tory party's secret weapon and leader-in-waiting; (C) A dangerous political schemer of Machiavellian dimensions who hides his hideous potential under a superficial media-friendly veneer of bumbling affability; or (D) A highly-successful IRL Troll.
It has been suggested that BJ's resistible rise to prominence has come about through his network of Tory friends, including his old fellow cokehead cronies in the Bullingdon Club, David Cameron and George Osborne, but nothing could be further from the truth. He is the British political system's embodiment of The Turd That Won't Flush Away. And on 23 June 2016, he blocked the nation's U-bend, establishing that he is in fact a stupid person who thinks he is a clever person pretending to be a stupid person.
Joined Murdoch's The Times as a trainee reporter and was sacked within a year for falsifying a quotation. Then washed up on the newsdesk of the Wolverhampton Express and Star, where he might well have toiled in relative and richly-deserved obscurity for the rest of his days, but somehow got on board Tory stalwart broadsheet The Daily Telegraph and rose to be Assistant Editor. Nothing to do with being a posh Tory fanboy and member of the aristocracy, he got that position purely on his own evident merit. Same as he did when he became editor of The Spectator magazine just a bit later.
It was during his years on the Telegraph that BoJo was taped conspiring with convicted fraudster Darius Guppy to have an enemy of Guppy's beaten up. But not so badly that he would be put in hospital, so that's OK, and is probably the reason that (despite not reporting Guppy to the police) Boris wasn't sacked.
During this period he also got Tory fangirl and aristocrat Petronella Wyatt (daughter of Tory eminence grise and Royal Family hanger-on Woodrow (Baron) Wyatt) up the duff. She subsequently had her cunt scraped to remove any trace of Boris's tainted, ichorous seed. Again, he somehow avoided getting sacked. Boris's wife stood by him, as Tory wives tend to do.
(Fun fact: La Wyatt has admitted in print to writing her own entry on TOW and has threatened to sue the site over vandalism to that page. While she's not notable enough to merit her own entry here because she's just a blue-blood Tory slapper no-mark, it would be truly awful if anything like that were to happen again -- which can't because the craven cunts of TOW caved in at the first hint of libel action and locked her page. The cunts.).
While still in position as editor of The Spectator, BJ joined the Tory party (officially joined, that is; obv he'd been an unaffiliated Tory since his father's ejaculation) and in 2001 got himself elected MP for the Tory 'safe seat' constituency of Henley, a place famous for its regatta (read: Annual picnic where wealthy and flabby-arsed true blue senior citizens eat strawberries and cream by the river once a year) and for being so upper-crust that they look down on the Queen.
He continued in this two-pronged situation until 2005 when he was appointed to the Tory front bench of then-opposition leader and old pal David Cameron. Again, he got this position purely because he was the most suitable candidate available.
He still churns out space-filling "why-oh-why" nonsense for the Telegraph unto this very day, claiming that his £250,000 salary from the paper is "chicken feed" (it's ten times the UK's average wage).
During this period, Johnson got another women (Helen Macintyre) up the spout, and this time she went through with the pregnancy, giving birth to a Borislet whose identity is currently under legal protection. BJ's wife stood by him again, as Tory wives tend to do.
In 2008, he (God help us all) got elected Mayor of London and then again for a second term. He has been involved in, or directly the cause of, many many scandals, the most lulzworthy of which was claiming £99.50 in expenses for a return journey by taxi between City Hall and Elephant and Castle – a trip of approximately five kilometres. Somehow London hasn't yet collapsed into its own sewer system, but that's no thanks to him.
The quotable Johnson
"Man of integrity, Mayor of a multicultural metropolis"
—Johnson, 2001 (he later completely changed his position)
"Future Prime Minister"
It is surely a sign of the profound moral, spiritual and political bankruptcy of the modern Tory party that an individual such as Boris Johnson can be seriously and openly spoken of as a future leader and Prime Minister. To many this seems about as likely as Ronald Reagan becoming US president, i.e., the sort of thing you only read about in sci-fi "alt-history" books, but stranger things have happened.
The resistible rise
In August 2014, having previously denied on 11 occasions since 2010 that he would stand as a Tory MP in the 2015 General Election, Johnson announced that he would be seeking election as a Tory MP in the 2015 General Election. The scheming shitsack claimed that he had no ambition to become Tory leader, lying through his fucking teeth that David Cuntmoron was doing a "brilliant" job.
Knowing that Johnson was lying through his fucking teeth as usual, Ladbrokes (Britain's major bookie) immediately slashed the odds on Johnson becoming Tory leader.
If elected, Johnson would serve one full year as both an MP and Mayor of London, thus allowing him to inflict DOUBLE DAMAGE POINTS on Britain's domestic politics and international standing simultaneously.
Shortly after his announcement of intention, a national opinion poll showed that 34 per cent of respondents wanted him to become Tory leader after Cameron, rising to 50 per cent among Tory voters.
This demonstrates two things: That the British are starved of entertainment and that Tory voters are thicker than most.
(Mind you, it's worth remembering that the modern Tory party is such a cavalcade of cunts that the second pick of the majority would be hatchet-faced harridan Home Secretary Theresa May, which from a Borisian perspective must be like being voted more popular than necrophilia).
12 September 2014: Johnson is selected as prospective Parliamentary Candidate for the Uxbridge and South Ruislip constituency on the outskirts of London. This seat has been held by the Conservative Party throughout the last 13 General Elections, and was held with a 25 per cent majority in 2010. In other words, you could stick a blue rosette on a sack of pigshit and it would get elected there -- which is more or less what's going to happen in May 2015, unless Johnson does something weapons-grade stupid and pisses off one of the country's most Tory-loyal populations (which isn't outside his known capabilities).
May 2015: Elected MP for Uxbridge and South Ruislip constituency, one of the country's safest Tory seats. His inevitable election in this seat is a sign that the Tory Party's backroom schemers are grooming him for the big time.
In the run-up to Britain's European referendum of June 2016, Johnson got out his megaphone and unicycle and wobbled his way around Britain, yelling the most retarded shit his benzo-addled mind could conjure up at unsuspecting members of the public, almost as though he was on a dare to sabotage the campaign at the behest of his masters. He made bold claims that bananas could only be sold in bunches of three because of the EU (a statement contradicted by every visit to any supermarket ever), that Britain sent £350m a week to the EU and that he would spend it on the NHS instead (we didn't, it was actually 250 BUT WHO CARES LOL, and he didn't since he never rose to power), and perhaps the biggest lie of all was that he regarded David Cameron as a close personal friend, when everyone knows that nobody could stick the wimpy Eton twat.
Prior to 2016, the notion of Britain leaving the EU was a topic dominated by the sort of crank who thinks there might be something in homeopathy and is still resentful about the currency going decimal in 1973. After Johnson had ceased shilling shit that nobody cared about and appropriated the majority of the campaign from UKIP during the 2015 General Election that Nigel Farage was largely in charge for, a party voted for by over 4 million XENOPHOBIC RACIST BIGOTS and only managed 2 seats due to the broken voting system, retards instead found themselves backing this bleached-bald downie twat once Farage decided against running for Prime Minister, though they would soon regret it.
Suddenly, Boris found himself the leader of a revolution with no manifesto, having got just what he wanted without the faintest idea of what to do with it. After briefly panicking for a while, he decided to revert to his original stances thinking that people would trust a literal backpedalling fool twice, and was promptly shitcanned in favor of Theresa May. Unable to deal with the humiliation of losing to a woman, Johnson essentially vanished from the face of the Earth before being made the Foreign Secretary out of pity. Now he gets to share his insanity with the world instead of confining it to a single, small island.
But one should beware of unleashing dark forces beyond one's control. He who hesitates is lost, and Boris the unready apprentice had forgotten this essential fact of necromancy.
As Boris stood trembling on the brink of seizing the powers of the deep to perform at his beck and call, something was stirring in the depths of R'lyeh. That something was the concentrated evil of The Dark Queen of the Night, who had regenerated into her new form and had therefore escaped detection, and just like that she struck him down into an abyss beyond space and time and he was never heard of again. Poof, shlurp, nothing.
- Brexit - I accidentally the United Kingdom
- Cameron, David - schoolboy rivalry continued on the international stage
- Downing Street Affair, the
- Osborne, George
Outside world stuff
is part of a series on