Honestly, truly, I did intend to write about something other than THAT.
I flirted with the idea of devoting the next few hundred words to the achievements of Scotsman Cameron Norrie at Wimbledon, or the bright new future for the Dons after a summer of rebuilding, following last season’s disappointment.
Aberdeen’s new harbour and all the opportunities that brings was high on the list. As was Nicola Sturgeon’s less-than-cunning plan to circumvent the legal system and turn the next general election into a de facto referendum on independence, thus neatly avoiding scrutiny on her government’s failures in all the areas that really matter.
But the bottom line was that I just could not turn my back on the only show in town: the shameful demise of the once-golden boy of British politics, Boris Johnson.
Thousands upon thousands of words have already been written and spoken about the events leading up to last Friday’s partial resignation, and I’ll spare you the pain of rehearsing them here. But, there is one aspect of the whole sorry affair which has left me slightly bemused.
Covering for a sex pest is a resigning matter
The final nail in Boris’s coffin was driven in following the emergence of allegations that Tory MP Chris Pincher drunkenly groped two men at a gentlemen’s club in London, something which is, apparently, a hobby of his, if allegations dating back a number of years are to be believed. The deputy chief whip (a man responsible for the conduct of his fellow Conservative MPs) promptly resigned and referred himself to some kind of counselling.
It is what happened in the next 48 hours which sealed the prime minister’s fate. His advisers sent a stream of cabinet ministers out in front of TV cameras to insist that Boris had no knowledge of historic allegations against Mr Pincher at the time he was appointed to the whips’ office.
When that didn’t wash, the line became: “He knew of allegations, but they were unproven” and, when that also failed, he had no choice but to come clean and admit that he did know. Awfully sorry, but it’s time to move on. Except that the moving on which transpired was not quite what he had in mind.
Thus, it appears, a prime minister can lie, use taxpayers’ money for dubious means, party while fining others who do the same, and generally make a Horlicks of the job he was appointed to do, then “move on” as if nothing happened. But to cover up the misdemeanours of, and support, a sex pest is a resigning matter. Which brings me to Ian Blackford and Tim Davie.
Boris Johnson took the spotlight
Ian Blackford – the rather graceless and supercilious leader of the SNP in Westminster – must be a relieved man that Boris was making such a mess of his career, because it diverted attention well away from what, ordinarily, might have brought about his own downfall.
One of the MPs under his wing, Patrick Grady, was suspended from parliament and, subsequently, the SNP for two days after having sexually touched a young party worker. Rather than taking decisive action against Grady, Blackford summoned his MPs together and urged them to offer the sex pest their full support, a sentiment echoed by another SNP MP, Amy Callaghan.
No mention of support for the victim, though.
This gathering was recorded by one of those present and leaked to the Daily Mail, a newspaper never too reluctant to expose wrongdoing by parties opposed to its beloved Conservatives. Blackford and Callaghan duly apologised and, behold, announced a review into the pastoral care afforded to staff in such circumstances. Time to move on.
Time to move on?
Tim Davie is director-general of the BBC and, in April this year, insisted the BBC had received no complaints about sexual misconduct by former Radio 1 DJ, Tim Westwood, following allegations made by seven women. Except that it had. Six of them to be precise.
The fact that the man at the very top of the BBC had misled the public – its paymasters – made headline news on the BBC for one day before disappearing into the ether. Time to move on.
The reason for my bemusement over all this is quite straightforward. If Boris Johnson was ultimately forced out of office for throwing a protective arm around a man accused of sexual misconduct, why weren’t Ian Blackford and Tim Davie?
Derek Tucker is a former editor of The Press and Journal
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