Boris Johnson thinks he’s a comedian. There’s nothing funny about his lack of leadership

A year of Boris Johnson is a difficult thing to judge. In normal times it probably wouldn’t be, but we are, in case you hadn’t noticed, in the grip of a global pandemic. It is hard to look at the situation that the country is in and see if it is better, worse or the same as a year ago, when everything has changed. I won’t try to critique the state of the economy (bad) or how things feel on the ground in the community (bad) in a Boris Britain because not even his harshest critic could blame a pandemic on him.

So instead I will judge him on his performance as prime minister against things that other prime ministers had to deal with, and how well he has handled the crisis. The two are inextricably linked.

I am a lively sort; I like an off-the-cuff gag. I don’t take myself too seriously and no one would describe me as spick and span, so you might think that I would like the blustering scruffy style of the prime minister. However, I find it repellent.

First, I don’t find him in the slightest bit funny, which I think is a prerequisite if you are going to make “fun” as your schtick. As Keir Starmer quite rightly picked him up on at prime minister’s questions this week, pre-prepared lines about flip-flops or Calvin Klein pants, when you are being asked about death rates or national security, leave me cold. These jokes might sound totally hilarious if you are a Tory backbencher but frankly, I am used to a considerably higher standard of comedy.

I went to have my nails done last week as soon as regulation allowed. Incidentally, this was a week after my husband had been able to have his beard trimmed. Boris Britain is all about the lads. The woman sat next to me in the nail shop chatted with me about politics and how despairing she felt. As I often do in these small talk exchanges, I reached for a platitude and said, “Well, at least it’s not boring.” To which she replied, “I would give my right arm for a boring prime minister or a boring president.”

This is the rub: being funny, ill-prepared and stumbling over the most basic details of government policy, which Boris Johnson does, is not very reassuring at the best of times, let alone at a time when millions don’t know when they will return to work, thousands have lost loved ones and the heat is rising on national security from China and Russia.

The PM’s handling of the Covid-19 crisis has throughout shown elements of bumbling. After an initially good start of mostly decent support packages and clear messaging and instruction, we have been left with a lot of confused mixed messages as lockdown lifted. Ministers said a different thing every day about masks, or transport, or takeaways. If I were to walk out on to a high street this very second and offer someone £1000 to tell me what the rules were about people from different households being in cars together, for example, I would return with every penny of my money in my pocket.

Instead of clear, detailed planning and humility to fix where things were not going well, we have been treated to hallmark Johnson bluster that told us care homes were being protected (they weren’t) and that literally everything the government did was “world beating” (it wasn’t). All anyone asked for was a test, track and trace system that worked. The idea that everyone wants world-beating government policies, and up and down the land people will be throwing patriotic street parties about record PPE imports is just weird. Just do the job, leave the pride and flag waving for when the sport is back on.

People are terrified about their jobs and their kids’ education, so waffling on about your favourite place to build a bridge is not very reassuring.

This bumbling speaks to the biggest problem that a year of his premiership has left unanswered: who is really in charge? A prime minister can be boring, or funny, they can make mistakes and lead on policy that is unpopular and still come out with the respect of the country, but what they cannot lack is the certainty of leadership or have even the slightest whiff that they are being controlled.

Boris Johnson rose to victory with the aid of the concept of control, and he seems, through either boredom of the minutia of government or just buyer’s remorse, to have a little less control every day, even about the decisions he claims to make. When asked at the Liaison Committee (the Justice League of Committees) a question about targets for Covid-19 testing, the prime minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland said, “I have been forbidden from announcing any more targets.” Which either tells you he repeatedly makes stuff up off the top of his head, or he is simply not in charge. Either way, I don’t find funny.

Jess Phillips is the shadow minister for domestic violence and safeguarding and Labour MP for Birmingham Yardley