So this is Christmas, as the Yoko Ono and John Lennon song ‘Happy Christmas (War is over)’ goes. All of the ritual, none of the atmosphere. This year, 2020, Christmas was effectively cancelled, or at least significantly curtailed, for most of us. Having been promised amnesty from Covid by the hapless pleaser Boris, the ability to mingle in this mingling season was abruptly snatched back with just a few days to go, stranding people with turkeys too big for the new, micro-family sized gathering, the unnecessary expenses that accompany preparation (not a concept this government seems capable of grasping) for one thing when – too late – another is actually on offer, and the spectre of moving into lockdown (rebranded as Tier 4 by the Orwellian double-speak of this dictatorial age) immediately after Christmas lunch has been flushed down the toilet. What a waste.
This Christmas, in our household, we took it in turns to read ‘The wind in the willows’. The Edwardian language is in keeping with the spirit of a traditional English festive season and it is a lovely story. As we were reading it, it occurred to me how similar the character of Toad is to our own dear Prime Minister. The tom-foolery, the careless disregard for others’ safety or wellbeing, the utter lack of foresight, the headlong pursuit of his own agenda regardless of reason or common sense, the empty bluster, the showing off, the barefaced lies, the scheming for personal advantage. Toad, in case you have forgotten, ends up in gaol. His vanity, selfishness, criminal behaviour and headstrong egoism land him there. By playing on the sympathies of a kind hearted woman who brings him food to the cell, he escapes and goes on the run. Toad is irredeemable. Incorrigible. Corrupt. Crass. Bragging, deceitful and vainglorious. He is, in many ways, one of the most abhorrent characters in fiction. On paper. But he is also naughty. Naughty and childish. Naughty and very funny. And in this miscreant demeanour lies his charm. We like Toad. Very much. In spite of himself and in spite of our better judgement.
But Toad is only bearable because he is surrounded by wise friends and sage counsel. Boris – Mr. Toad at Number 10 – isn’t. He is surrounded by political idealogues as blunderingly incompetent as they are insensitive. ‘The wind in the willows’ wouldn’t be a story with a happy outcome if all the characters were like Toad. It would be an anarchy of selfishness where many characters end up getting hurt or, even worse, dying. Mercifully, there is only one Toad. And there is common sense, practical Ratty; there is dependable, compassionate Moley; and there is soundly logical, fierce Badger. Together, they prevent the worst excesses of Toad from getting out of control and they surround him with discipline and clear thinking. And they have a plan to win back Toad Hall from the marauding Wild Wooders who have taken advantage of Toad’s absence. A plan which takes courage to implement against superior numbers – a plan which is clever, thought-through and executed quickly and effectively.
The parallel with our current Covid crisis is startling. Our government lacks the alliance of brains and competence that restored the world of the riverbank back to order. This government’s strategy is a Mr. Toad strategy of immediate self-gratification. Its execution, ramshackle, last minute, zig-zagging chaos. Result: unnecessary deaths, societal confusion, disarray and a country that has become a laughing stock. This is what happens when you put Toad in the driving seat. In a children’s story, it’s funny. In real life, it’s deadly.
I don’t want to be ruled by Prime Minister Toad. I love Toad deeply as a character – the story would be the poorer without him, certainly tamer and less dramatic. But drama is the last thing we want from our leaders. We want the characteristics of Rat, Mole and Badger. We don’t want erraticism, buffoonery, grandstanding. Please God, at this Holy time of year, deliver us from Mr. Toad. This administration is a car crash of ineptitude. If we are really to come out of the last few years of psycho-drama – first Brexit then the pandemic – and forge a new path in the world, let us be done with fools. Let’s evict the cast of the Wild Wooders – weasels such as the bombastic Nigel Farage, the oleaginous Michael Gove and the thuggish Priti Patel – and put Boris in an asylum where he can entertain himself pretending to drive cars with the accompanying ‘poop poop’ noises that pass for policy initiatives. We are done with incompetents.
So this 31 December, when we are prisoners in our homes for the third time in 9 months, when the celebrations are there but the family are not, when we are all paying the price of Boris’ last minute-itis and propensity to please rather than to lead, let’s resolve not to fall for bread and circuses ever again. Let’s settle for bread. Without the clowns. Let’s look to the dawn of a new year, rising in the East, get some normality back into our lives, rebuild and re-vitalise. And let’s start the fightback that will re-take this country back from the Toads and weasels that have taken up residence for far too long. They did it in America this last November when they evicted their own Mr. Toad from The White House. I’m aiming at 2024 as a new beginning when we chuck them all out here in Britain. But it will take a clever plan which will take courage to implement and against – at the moment – superior numbers. Step up all the Rattys, Moleys and Badgers. Your country needs you.