Boris Johnson has always been guarded about his private life – that may no longer be possible

Some politicians build a cult around their personality; others draw a veil of secrecy over their private lives. As the announcement of his latest baby’s birth has shown, Boris Johnson is unusual in that he attempts both at the same time.

The birth, of course, was splashed all over the front pages of supportive newspapers who hailed it as a tonic for a nation depressed by lockdown.

Some Twitter cynics suggested the announcement was a convenient distraction from the rising Covid-19 death toll as the UK moved into third place globally – though it has to be said that Mother Nature doesn’t allow that degree of scheming.

Downing Street helpfully distributed a snap of the prime minister apparently bounding up the No 10 staircase in his eagerness to get back to work after returning from the hospital, sporting a bright red tie dangling, Trump-style, well below his belt, in a fashion regarded by body language experts as a display of virility.

But beyond that, there were virtually no details on offer to slake the media’s thirst for information about the event. The Downing Street aide tasked with fielding press queries about the birth may never have used the words “no comment” more often.

The baby’s name, its birth weight, the location and time of the birth, whether or not Carrie Symonds remained in hospital, whether the child has been tested for coronavirus, whether the happy couple will hire a nanny, when the father will take paternity leave – all remained secret, as did the explanation for the April birth of a child Downing Street had said was due in “early summer”. The timing sparked concerns that the birth was premature, perhaps dangerously so. But no one would say if this was the case, or if the previously announced due date was deliberately misleading.

The one fact the aide did let slip was that the new parents will keep their dog Dilyn at home, but this left reporters scratching their heads over whether they were any the wiser for it.

Close observers of the prime minister’s style will not have been surprised by the secrecy. While predecessors like David Cameron or Tony Blair were happy to allow the cameras a degree of access to their private lives, Johnson has always refused to discuss his family with the media.

His personality cult is focused firmly on himself as an individual – the polyglot gabbling of Greek and Latin phrases, the puppyish enthusiasm, the arcane repertoire of “golly” and “gosh”, the untucked shirt and artfully ruffled hair all designed to convey the image of a mischievous but loveable overgrown public schoolboy.

Family members, including father Stanley and sister Rachel, have grabbed their share of the limelight almost independently of him, rather than as part of a “first family”, a la Trump.

So deep is the division that the PM would like to maintain between his political and personal lives that he even has a different name at home, with family members knowing him as Al, from his first name Alexander (Boris is second; one can only assume he chose to use it professionally because it makes him so distinctive a brand).

Of course, there are obvious reasons for his coyness about his private life. With two previous wives, an unknown number of children – six are acknowledged, but he has declined to say publicly whether this is the total number – and an extramarital affair which ended up in court, he is not really in a position to parade himself as a family man.

Unlike Euan Blair, whose name became well-known while his father was at No 10, Johnson’s children with his former wife – Lara, Milo, Cassia and Theodore – remain virtually anonymous.

The coming weeks will test Johnson’s determination to keep his private life under wraps. Media demand for photographs and updates on the baby’s progress – not to mention Johnson’s upcoming nuptials with Symonds – are certain to be intense. Could it be that, at the age of 55, the eternal schoolboy will finally be forced to adopt the public persona of a father figure?

Yours,

Andrew Woodcock

Political editor