Fraser Nelson Tory backbenchers are running out of patience

Amid the Covid chaos, the Prime Minister’s greatest enemies might end up being his own MPS

Politicians are always brutal about each other’s failings, but some of the verdicts about Boris Johnson’s Government in recent weeks set new levels of obloquy. “A circus run by clowns,” one MP tells me. “The most inept Government in living memory,” says another. Abuse has long been the language of parliament. But what makes it different this time is that these are all Conservative MPS talking about a Conservative government – and one that’s supposed to be in its honeymoon period. Strange times.

The Covid crisis has morphed into what seems, at times, to be a permanent omnishambles. Brilliant students from deprived backgrounds have been denied access to university by an algorithm literally programmed in favour of private schools with smaller class sizes. “It has been like the old Tory caricature: not giving a stuff about the poorest as long as the rich do OK,” says one of the new intake Tory MPS.

You can – and I do – argue that Gavin Williamson should not be fired. Bedlam was inevitable as soon as the decision was taken to cancel exams, a decision that was not his. But still, even now, most Tory MPS want him gone. Why, they ask, was he so quiet when teaching unions discouraged members from marking homework during lockdown? How did we end up in a position where unions publish a 130-strong checklist of questions to ask head teachers before schools reopen, some of which are nothing to do with Covid? Why the absence of strategy, engagement or leadership?

Lockdown has deepened anger. Ministers cannot work the tea rooms or assuage the parliamentary party as they once did. Mr Williamson arranged Zoom meetings with MPS to explain things – but even ministers were surprised to see that he wasn’t there, sending junior ministers instead. The more forgiving Tories see this as part and parcel of lockdown madness. The less forgiving say the debacle – and questions not asked – suggests No10 has itself lost interest in education.

Some of the ‘Red Wall’ Tory MPS, who started off as devoted fans of the Prime Minister, saying that he made their election possible, are now starting to wobble. They only had a few weeks in Westminster before they were sent back to their constituencies to handle the Covid fallout. “You’d think someone would call asking how we were coping, or offering help or advice,” says one newbie. “Instead we’re just asked to go out and defend screw-ups, even Dominic Cummings. The general attitude is: you’re all lobby fodder: just keep quiet, don’t talk to the press and we’ll leave you alone.”

A common question among Tories is whether the party hierarchy realises how bad things now are. Amanda Milling, party chairman, has been emailing MPS repeatedly on the same topic: how important it is for them to sign up to the “Great British September Clean” campaign. With the education chaos now spreading to universities and much of the economy falling apart, even ministers see this as an odd obsession.

Social distancing has led to political distancing: the link between the Government and its backbenchers – a third of them new – has not been properly forged. The Whatsapp groups intended as support teams for various ministers are turning into moaning sessions. It’s done discreetly – anything too critical is bound to leak – but it lets backbenchers guess where they are on the outrage scale. They then phone each other up, to vent. Even plot.

All this is, of course, nothing new. Tory MPS usually come in two types: pre-regicidal and actively regicidal. Yet none of them are close, this time, to wanting Boris Johnson gone. They’re still willing him to succeed, return to form, raise spirits and apply the daring leadership he showed in the Brexit referendum. But they are wondering whether this will ever happen. And whether it’s true that, as the Westminster rumour has it, the Prime Minister keeps switching moods over the virus: one day mustard-keen to get the economy moving, the next day terrified of a second wave.

The moaning is growing into soft rebellion. Some 40 MPS are disgruntled enough to defy the whip on certain issues, at which point the majority vanishes. These rebellions have so far been invisible because the Government surrenders in advance. It would have lost a vote on handing 5G to Huawei had the policy not been dropped. No10 was all set to free up prison space by releasing prisoners at an earlier stage of their sentence – but it got wind of backbench rebellion and dropped the plan at the last minute.

So there are enough rebels to pressurise – even constrict – a majority Tory Government over smallish issues. MPS feel sufficiently unloved to rebel over larger issues: Robert Jenrick’s planning bill, for example. It’s now quite possible that the Government will lose a parliamentary vote by the end of the year. This is why, in recent weeks No10 has been moving to repair – or simply establish – relations with new backbenchers. Small groups have been invited to meet the Prime Minister or some of his senior advisers. But so far, there have been too few of these soirées to make a significant difference.

It’s not as if everything has been a disaster. The Eat Out to Help Out scheme has been a smash hit; the hastily designed furlough scheme forestalled millions of job losses. Universal Credit was able to handle three million claims with a speed unthinkable under the old tax credit system. The NHS’S performance has inspired huge public support – so much so that the Government is now bolting the letters “NHS” to Matt Hancock’s test-and-trace system (to the chagrin of those in the health service). But the successes have been silent, and the failures spectacular. Even worse when the failures were entirely avoidable; the result of a failure to think far enough ahead.

A few months ago, it would be hard to think that a newly elected Prime Minister with an 80-strong majority would have a serious party management problem. But in the last few months, all kinds of trends have been accelerated – including the speed with which a party loses patience with its Prime Minister. “When we all get back next month, he is ready to start to repair things,” says a Cabinet member. Which is just as well, because there is all too much work to do.