BORIS Johnson has been commissioned to write a book detailing his time in Downing Street. Publisher HarperCollins said it had acquired the rights to his memoir of No 10 from 2019 to 2022.
Arabella Pike (it had to be an Arabella), publishing director at the HarperCollins imprint William Collins, believes it will be a prime ministerial memoir ‘like no other‘.
TCW Defending Freedom has seen a draft copy of the foreword to his memoir, provisionally titled ‘From Landslide to Democide: My Story.’
Salvete! Yikes, cripes, blimey, I have been given a large amount of spondulicks to write 70,000 words about my fantastic career as PM. Only 69,977 to go!
I was the one with the ruffled hair. You may remember me as Boris the Blond Bombshell or Boris the Bullingdon Bruiser, and I like to think that I sprinkled a little stardust on the dreary world of politics.
I won’t dwell too much on my background, such as my Zeus-like role as the father of several outstanding children with some amazing Amazonian women, as I’m sure you are all more interested in how the United Kingdom’s greatest leader since Churchill, or possibly ever, became recognised as such.
It all started when I was a toddler. I told my family that I wanted to be King of the World and that’s what happened. Of course to reach that elevated position I had to shake a lot of hands, eat a lorryload of rubber chicken, and slurp gallons of tepid Pinot Grigio. Nevertheless, because of my deep intellect, sparkling personality and unmatched bonhomie I achieved my goal without too much trouble.
As the saying goes Per aspera ad astra or, in my case it was rather Per aspirin ad astra after all those late nights greeting a multitude of eager Rotarians and fawning branch chairmen.
In the following thrilling pages you will read how I, with my three hundred or so gallant Spartan MPs, smashed the massed forces of Corbyn, as the Persian-loving Xerxes. You will be amazed to discover how I slew the Gorgons that roamed the corridors of the Byzantine European Union, and how eventually, like Leonidas at Thermopylae, I was undone by traitors in the camp. As Heraclitus remarked, ‘Dogs bark at what they don’t understand.’
You will discover how, at the behest of my latest wife Carrie, herself the veritable embodiment of the goddess Demeter, and guided by the wisdom of a miniature Swedish troll, I helped to revolutionise the energy supply that keeps us virtuous and prosperous. You will marvel how, through my Herculean exploits, I single-handedly held together the pillars of the tottering Western alliance to keep the Russian Minotaur confined in its labyrinth. Your jaw will drop as I describe my epic struggle to evade the boatman Charon as he beckoned me to cross the River Styx as I lay prostrate like a wounded Hector in St Thomas’ Hospital, stricken by a deadly virus.
As you will recall, I rose Phoenix-like from my deathbed to supervise the response to the new plague. I will also describe how like Horatius on the Sublicius Bridge, I singlehandedly fought insurmountable odds to impose vital lockdowns, and with ‘Salus populi suprema lex esto’ uppermost in my mind, I purchased billions of exciting new jabs to keep my subjects safe. Britain became the envy of the world. My catchphrase, ‘Build back better (or as I prefer to say, ‘melius ædificate’) was soon an alliteration beloved by all.
In his poem Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote ironically of his subject: ‘Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair’. Be assured there will be no irony in this tale of unparalleled achievement.
In the next 69,000-odd words you will find more ingenious allusions to historic, mythological and classical events than have ever been recorded in the annals of publishing, and I offer them to you, dear reader, to allow you to learn the secrets of the greatest leader since Julius Caesar.
Arabella, is this on the right lines? If so please forward advance asap.
BoJo x
PS: I’m not sure about the provisional title.