Just for the headline, like.
I just don’t know how this man has made it this far into life with so little self-awareness.
So many haven’t covered themselves with glory this year. Here are my biggest disappointments of 2021:
The Mainstream Media (That I spent 30 years of my career in)
Scientists (Who I’ve spent 20 years arguing with about climate change)
Medics (Who I previously eschewed in search of effective alternative treatments for my illnesses)
Libertarians (Of whom I was never one because, until 3 minutes ago, I was a committed Tory boy)
The Conservative Party (lol)
The Archbishop of Canterbury; The Pope (Now I’ve suddenly and ostentatiously ‘found God’ I feel empowered to curse the figureheads of the establishment I’m now cleaving to)
All the idiotic celebrities, politicians, journalists who allowed themselves to be roped into the government’s campaign to vilify people who don’t want get vaccinated.
Brexit (I never imagined our political class could contrive to twist it into something that would benefit them and not us)
I mean… really? You went into 2021, in your 50s and you thought any of these would not turn out to be terrible, on the evidence of the last 20 years?
After all, this is what he says about our esteemed Prime Minister:
From his chummy, affected nickname (his real name is Alexander) to his japesome Telegraph articles celebrating breast implants and BMWs, Johnson is, and always has been, an elaborately constructed fraud. The pity is that most of us (me included) hoped there was something real beneath the facade and didn’t realise the truth until he was inextricably entrenched and the damage had been done.
Today, Boris “always has been a fraud”.
But who can forget the before times? Well, Delingpole sure can.
I could forgive this of a blogger – someone like myself who has never been in the same postcode as Boris Johnson. But Delingpole had spent the previous several years telling us – ad nauseum – how he went to Oxford with Boris, amongst other self-serving chancers whose names are in every political story of the last 2 years. Now, you might think “well, if one of his Oxford contemporaries can’t suss him out, what chance does a prole like me have?”
Except we did figure him out, didn’t we? Long before Delingpole stopped being a greasy-pole establishment lickspittle and suddenly decided that his future was in pointing and shrieking and being outraged at the grotesque betrayal of the country by ALL OF THE PEOPLE WHO HE WAS AT UNIVERSITY WITH.
Just fuck off, James.