Boris Johnson won’t even get a round in on a first date – that gives you the measure of the man

Jennifer Arcuri, as I’m sure you know by now, has revealed to a Sunday newspaper that she had a four-year relationship with Boris Johnson when he was mayor of London. (Turn to page seven for news about the Pope’s religious leanings.)

This must be, what, the 59th time the story has resurfaced? Arcuri’s allegations might have hurt other politicians but Johnson is no stranger to rumours about extramarital affairs – this is not, if you’ll excuse me, his first rodeo. The damage will be minimal.

Still, the details are worth picking over, specifically the revelation that, according to Arcuri, Johnson doesn’t always get his round in. Stop sniggering at the back – I’m talking about his refusal to buy Arcuri a drink on their first date.

In May 2012, the pair allegedly met for a “private drink” at the Tavistock Hotel in Bloomsbury. It’s only fair, at this point, to hand over to Arcuri, who tells the story well. “He showed up late, dishevelled and chaotic. He was biking – he came in with his helmet. I thought, ‘That’s a great look for the start of this.’ He went to the bar and came back within a minute and said, ‘Jennifer, can I borrow £3.10?’ I thought, ‘I’m a student buying you a beer, you should be ashamed of yourself.’”

That just about gives you the measure of our prime minister. Late, careless, aloof and absolutely sure, like most old Etonians, that things will work out in the end (one assumes he got his beer and probably the next one, too).

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The evening didn’t improve for poor Arcuri, who was working on Johnson’s re-election campaign at the time. Johnson managed to overshadow his wretched arrival at the Tavistock Hotel with his departure. According to Arcuri, he tried to kiss her goodbye in the street and, when rebuffed, told her: “This is my city, I don’t care.” My city, but lend us some change, you know I’m good for it. She should have run for her life.

What is it about rich people? It’s always the ones with the most money who reach for their wallets last, moths fluttering as they offer everyone a half at closing time. It’s why they’re so rich, of course, but it’s a rotten trait. It means nothing but tells you everything.

So while the allegations of a four-year affair will bounce off Johnson, I wonder if this part of the story might stick. Johnson, man of the people, first to be photographed in a hard hat, won’t even buy a beer. It’s the purest illustration of the gap between who Johnson is and who he wants us to think he is.

Anyway, that’s my £3.10’s worth on the matter.

Yours,

Rupert Hawksley

Senior commissioning editor, Voices