There are few values that unite the British across history and class more than the sublime importance of humour—wit as an effortlessly-wielded form of cultural power.
The narrative that Johnson strategically gamed his way into office by selling British people a well-crafted lie is also a delusion. Yes, Boris and Trump are both habitual fibbers with iconic hair and populist harbingers of an era of uncertainty, but that’s where their similarity ends. While it’s often said that grasping politicians “believe in nothing,” with Johnson it’s a deeper moral truth. Not believing in anything is, quite literally, the only thing he believes in. I’ve met his type before, in fact I’ve met Boris himself on several occasions. While he’s undeniably intelligent and disarming, his strength lies not in a calculating lust for power but in how few tosses he gives. This maddening lightness of being is like catnip to British voters.
Rather than despairing, it’s perhaps more helpful to examine the connections. To look at how the inexplicable disaster of Brexit and its chaotic courier, Boris Johnson, connects on a continuum to the genius of John Donne and The Beatles.