His biggest political problem is not a predisposition to make references to a porcine cartoon or the shambolic goings-on inside No 10 but reneging on hitherto unambiguous pledges. Mr Johnson’s difficulty, of course, arises when that changes. Even if the PM’s personal ratings have subsided recently, Labour has yet to open a significant and consistent poll lead. His majority had gone by 1996 and Labour under Blair was sometimes 25 points ahead in the polls. But Major was weaker than Johnson in parliamentary terms. John Major was less a victim of his personality traits than of circumstances, harried relentlessly by Eurosceptics for refusing a referendum over the Maastricht Treaty until in the end he resigned the Tory leadership, throwing down a gauntlet that only John Redwood picked up. So it was with Gordon Brown, whose brooding solemnity was to begin with regarded as the antidote to Blairism before being recognised more widely as a character defect that those inside New Labour had identified years earlier. So it was with Theresa May whose seriousness, stoicism, and stubbornness were considered just what was needed in the circumstances of the post-referendum crisis only to be seen later as fatal flaws that almost crashed the constitution. It can do so almost overnight and then, afterwards, what were perceived as strengths, or at least accepted as endearing eccentricities, become the stick with which you are beaten, mercilessly. But there comes a point when the public perception switches. It is one reason why he has attracted such a large following in the country because he uses the language most people understand, not the ponderous, formulaic cant we are usually fed. But he would have used some other demotic allusion, maybe from his childhood, like Ivor the Engine to talk about HS2 or Captain Pugwash to extol the importance of Global Britain. His fascination with this anthropomorphic porker owes everything to the fact that he is the father of a young child, otherwise it would hardly feature in his life. That same evening he spoke at a dinner hosted by the Centre for Policy Studies, in partnership with the Telegraph, and was off, unapologetically, on his Peppa Pig riff once more. Yet it bombed, triggering another round of “what’s wrong with Boris?” head-shaking in the party and “we told you so” sniggering from his detractors. Once upon a time, it would have had his audience in stitches. It was a technique he had honed over many years as a newspaper columnist and after dinner speaker.
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It was vintage Boris, the juxtaposition of the colloquial alongside the consequential to make a serious point.
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Not only was this an unlikely British success story arising from what seemed to be a fairly nondescript idea, but the peaceful, litter-free society dependent on mass transit was an appealing example for children to follow. Brilliantly he remembered he’d been to Peppa Pig World with his family at the weekend so he could talk about that. Watching Boris Johnson’s address to the CBI on Monday, I wondered if the same prank had been played on him as he rummaged through the pages looking for something, anything, to latch onto. Not long into his oration he turned over a sheet of paper on which was written: “You’re on your own now matey.” The remainder of what he imagined would be a 20-minute speech was blank. There is an old Whitehall story, probably apocryphal, concerning a minister not especially well liked by his officials delivering an important policy speech to some august body.