There was just a sense of going through the motions. That Liz Truss was less of a person, more of an idea whose time had passed and gone, if she had ever existed. That she had already been promoted far beyond her talents as Secretary of State. And being prime minister was a fantasy. A digression. Category error. However, at least the aircon was working. So it wasn’t all bad. Before the start, a bunch of MPs hung out at the front of the room. Like they’re not sure what they’re supposed to be doing or, more importantly, why they’re doing it. Things had moved at lightning speed. A week ago being the continuation candidate, Boris looked like a viable field. Keeper of the sacred flame for Daily Mail readers. But things had moved on. Now The Convict wasn’t even irrelevant. This could survive. He had probably become actively toxic. Distance from the poisoned legacy is a necessity. Which is a problem if, like Liz, it’s just your only selling point. Nadine Dorries, Therese Coffey and Dehenna Davison took a selfie together. Maybe they’ll look at their pix in five years and wonder what they did in the summer of ’22. The year the Tory party went even more disappointing than usual. They must have thrown even more drugs than they remembered. The seat reserved for James Cleverley was left unsuited. Perhaps he had come to his senses and run for the hills. It was left to Kwasi Kwarteng to do the introductions. He kept it short and sweet, before welcoming her to the podium. Except he didn’t show up. We waited. And wait. And wait. Everything became very uncomfortable. There were even a few sniggers. Then Liz finally came forward. He was literally lost after walking through the door. It wasn’t the best start. Truss stared blankly straight ahead, her body rigid with fear, and began to misread her script. He stumbled over words and left pauses in mid-sentence. If he was hoping to sound political, then it didn’t work out badly. She was robotic, brain dead, managing to make Theresa May sound attractive, animated and articulate. A laugh a minute. If this is the prime minister the country has been waiting for, then we have all been lobotomized. “I delivered on Brexit,” he began. Which was news to everyone who was still waiting for the government to show that there were benefits. Or maybe she just meant that she always knew Brexit was a bad idea – she had remained in the referendum – and was thrilled to have been proven right. However, the Truss was large upon delivery. He said it, over and over again. He had delivered all the good things that people liked and he hadn’t delivered what they didn’t like. All of this had been delivered by someone else. The convict. Or the Ready4Rish snake! Not that she was going to tease any of her colleagues. He was bound by collective responsibility. Faithful to the last. Although she was more than happy for any of her supporters to make idle talk. Only that morning she had been devastated to hear Lord Frost accuse Penny Mordant of not taking her job seriously enough. This from a man who has spent the last six months running from his own Brexit deal. This level of denial will take you far… What the country really wanted was a modern Conservative party, Truss concluded. This left most people indifferent. Because if they did, what was she doing as a leader? All he could promise was a little more of the same. Although even she felt the writing was on the wall, that the support was bleeding. All he really had to offer was the one thing no one wanted. The convict. So she mumbled until no sounds came out of her mouth. A rabbit in the headlights. As he left the room, he headed for the … window. The launch may have been bad, but it wasn’t that big of a disaster. Finally as she made her way through a cluster of camera tripods, a snapper took pity on her and directed her to the door. Classico. She couldn’t find her way into the room and couldn’t find her way out. I never loved her more. Obviously he’d be a total disaster as prime minister, but he’d make great sketch material. Someone worse than Maybot. Join the Liz team. Otherwise, the other candidates were also maneuvering. Tom Tugendhat was living his best life. She seemed to have realized she had no chance of making it to the bottom two and was just hoping to make it to the televised debates where she would have her chance to shine. For the past two days he had been visibly relaxed. Now he takes the stress out of his near-constant references to his military background and enjoys being courted by the other groups eager for his votes like a prom queen. Welcome to the next cabinet. Rish! was in full defensive mode on the Today programme. He seemed surprised by how many people disliked him. And that was just his colleagues at Westminster. He didn’t even let the BBC broadcast video of his performance in case he was caught crying. Now he trusts no one but his teddy bear. Suella Braverman went wild, with a hostage video on Twitter in which she blew up the entire Good Friday Agreement by promising to withdraw from the European Convention on Human Rights. He can also fight, I guess. Shortly after 3 pm the results of the second round of voting were announced. Sunak and Mordad were both comfortably ahead. Truss was desperate to pick up any extra votes from the other right-wing candidates, while Simon Clarke, one of her staff, tried to convince everyone that things were absolutely on track… Anything to avoid the humiliation of not getting in in the last two. Kemi Badenoch was comfortably in fourth place. Not going anywhere, but pretty happy with it. Result. Tugendhat had lost votes, but made it to the televised debates. Result. Braverman was out. One less crazy thing for the country to worry about. Result.
