I’d been looking forward to it ever since my mum told me she’d bought it as part of my Christmas present but that I couldn’t have it because she was reading it first.
I’d been looking forward to it for two reasons:
- I love you Boris, you’re the best thing to happen to politics in my lifetime (not because of your politic ideals you understand but because of your mad hair and ridiculous personality.
- I was hoping it would teach me something about the political world and all those events I know enough about to reference occasionally but don’t really understand.
But my heart fell when I began to read what is essentially a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings with no context which would not be out-of-place on the bookshelf of any proud grandmother but which meant very little to me.
While I’m sure that to the right person these articles are a witty, insightful commentary on all that is wrong with the Labour party and with politics today; to me they are just the ramblings of some over-opinionated toff. And without some description of the events you’re writing about it’s more like reading a commentary on a film I haven’t seen.
It probably doesn’t help that the early part of the book covers the 1990s when I was still in single digits and had as much interest in politics as I did in flying a solo balloon mission to Mars. Which is to say none.
But despite this attempt being a failure I’m not ruling you out for ever Boris, some day I may return when I am better-informed and feel the need for your pithy take on the world and its problems. But for now I’ll just enjoy having the name Boris Johnson on my bookshelf where I’m sure it will make me chuckle occasionally.