Why it’s all Kylie unlikely Mr Juncker!
Ihave many regrets, but none I regret. There are many things I would do differently, but, on reflection, I would do them the same.
We made some mistakes in our campaign. I won’t deny it. But, then again, they were some of the most highly professional and wellregarded mistakes of which we were capable. My only regret is that I have so many regrets.
Frankly, I have no doubt at all that it would be a grave mistake not to repeat those very same mistakes if we were ever to find ourselves faced with a second referendum.
The morning after the Referendum, my focus was simple. I had to carry on being Prime Minister, and muster what dignity I could as I set a sensible course for handing over to a successor. I received a text from Boris. ‘Dave, I’ve changed my mind. Just realised that Leaving will be the most almighty prat-fall. any chance of holding another referendum? Whoopsy-daisy.’
as it awaited its next occupants, Downing Street became an eerie place. Power was fading, and I began to noticed that people were treating me differently.
It was the little things: the way the Downing Street doorman said, ‘Open it yourself’; the way my private secretary reacted to my attempts at dictation by putting her fingers in her ears and humming a noisy tune. It was only later that I recognised that tune as Joe Dolce’s 1981 hit, Shaddap You Face.
Pre-arranged commitments in my diary kept me busy, though every few minutes my phone would go, leading to the cancellation of this meeting or that. eventually, my diary was filled with engagements crossed out.
angela Merkel had accidentally forgotten an urgent trip to her local mini-mart, where cup cakes were on special offer. her Majesty had overlooked a long-standing dental appointment.
So I attempted to bolster my own morale by arranging new entries. My diary was soon filled with things I could look forward to, and decisions to make.
‘Tuesday evening, 7pm: Geri halliwell and Joe Pasquale on The One Show. Should be entertaining!’
‘Thursday teatime: chocolate digestive or sponge finger? Decisions, decisions!’
Just five days after the result I was back in Brussels for what would be my final european council. I saw Juncker on my own. he was sad, but also effusive, saying how highly respected our country would always be among the nations of europe.
‘We will never forget,’ he said, ‘that at 1984 Olympics, Torvill and Dean won ice-skating Gold for Great Britain, scoring the maximum possible of nine sixes for artistic impression. That is certainly not an achievement to be sniffed at.’
I thanked Jean-Claude for these kind words, but he had not finished. ‘and Kylie Minogue, isn’t she British, too?’ he said, cheerily. ‘She’s a great favourite among the young.’ at this point, it was my duty to inform Mr Juncker that Kylie was in fact australian, not British.
‘Nevertheless,’ he replied, with a tear in his eye, ‘let us not get bogged down in detail. My point holds.’ The next day was my last chance to speak to the party faithful. The Conservative Summer Party was our annual blacktie fundraiser at the hurlingham Club in West London. But while I was on stage, it felt as if the political spotlight was shifting.
I noticed that I had been placed on a small table in an annexe, and served with the Super-Saver economy menu, including a choice of soup or dessert at an all-in price, to be paid in advance, wine extra.
Meanwhile, the two main contenders for the leadership, Theresa May and Boris Johnson, were enjoying full three-course meals in the main room, with wine and coffee gratis.
BY The end of the meal, I had prepared a few words, but I was told it might be best if I popped them into an envelope for safekeeping, and they would be read at the earliest available opportunity, weather permitting.
having settled my bill, I left that Summer Party reflecting that, on the central question of whether I had handled things right, I had handled them wrong. I had, to all intents and purposes, failed.
But, on the other hand, I had failed with a strong measure of success. In my view, to have taken a long-term approach on the best way to fail, and to have carried it out so successfully, was the mark of true leadership.
... to be continued